


The Curious and Unlooked-For Adventures of Magical Princess Little Crane and the Dastardly Black-Hearted Pirate

by Letterblade



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming of Age, Gen, OK more like sitcom rivalry let's be honest here, Rival Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 67,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterblade/pseuds/Letterblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsuruhime had thought the whole business with the Sea Devil was over and done with after she ran him out of her hometown--and rightfully so, he'd gotten what was coming to him! Yet instead of slinking off with his tail between his legs, he came right back to pester her for another round. Well, the God of War himself once said a little rivalry was good for the soul! But she couldn't have been prepared for how it would change her life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which the Sea Devil Refuses to Accept his Rightful Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: ON HIATUS due to my real life exploding and a computer crash that ate chapter 19, at least unless I find a miracle data recovery place that's cheap. I do not know when this fic will return but I am ever hopeful. And very sorry. :(
> 
> Much love to AO3 users hellscabanaboy and mllelaurel for being betas and sounding boards as I strive further into this fic! (Also their fic is great, you should read it.) This is a pretty SB3-centric fic that I rushed ahead and started writing as I was first playing the game, before SB4 came out; it's set immediately after a fusion of several routes. Because apparently ridiculous fluffy genfic with eventual stealth feelings was the first thing that came to me after playing dead gay samurai. As far as I could tell, Tsuruhime’s two generals were never named in canon, so I pulled names from history, from what little I could find about the Kono clan.

One of the odder parts about the whole terrible, horrible, _no_ good sea race with the black-hearted pirate, Tsuruhime realized later, was that nobody died. She couldn't think straight about it when she was racing back home to Noshima, she just couldn't--she had to fix it, right away, she couldn't even let herself think about how many people might be dead. And then she was busy struggling through hordes of sweaty grimy salty half-naked men-- _ewww_ \--to pin porters' feet to the decks with frozen arrows. It wasn't until her men were catching their breath and coming to help her clean up heavy boxes and stray purple banners and bits of that stupid spider cannon boat _thing_ that she realized.

Everybody in Noshima was alive. The bloody pirates hadn't more than knocked them upside the heads and left them tied up or barricaded in or rolled up in nets. They hadn't even taken that much, and half of it had gotten left behind as she routed them.

At that point, she didn't even know _what_ to think, she pretty much just wanted to curl up on her futon on her familiar rolling deck, pet her ship cats, and sleep for a _week_.

* * *

Sleeping for a week proved impractical, what with needing to eat and drink and all that, it was very inconvenient. And at dawn the sun's rays would gleam through the porthole and dance on her eyelids and show her all sorts of things, just like always. And just like always, it woke her up.

The sun shone brighter and brighter, in her dreams, but the mirror set opposite it was cracked and dripped shadows and blood. The badger hissed and licked its wounds; the moth hung brittle and withered from a fishhook.

The sea devil ran from a whirlpool black as night, salt spraying in his wake as he scudded across the waves. He howled, he huddled, he fled something that made her heart clench to look at. He ran towards the sun, even with blood on his claws, blood and broken glass and moth wings dripping. Even with a black beast huddled in the shadow of his horns, growling at nothing. A crow cawed, warm and dry. Tears ran down the oni mask.

She woke in one of those delicate moods of liminal understanding that quickly faded to foul and unladylike grumpiness because she didn't _actually_ understand much at all.

* * *

She was at least less grumpy by the evening, which was good, because when she came back belowdecks, heading for her cabin on the shrine ship, she nearly tripped over the damn man. Chosokabe Motochika himself, sprawled comfortably on the homely tatami mats that lined her decks to make it a proper room, leaning on his stupid anchor, with his eye flicking over a scroll in his hands and a contemplative twist in his mouth, as if passing the time. Like he owned the place.

She _absolutely_ did not shriek. Or anything of the sort. She also absolutely kept her cool and did not draw her bow on him.

He looked up, squinted down the arrow pointed right at his one good eye, and waved. "Evening, Tsuruhime! You know, I never had a chance to ask--you enjoy our race?"

" _No_! How could you even--?!"

He just kept looked at her, unflinching, and she thought of what would happen if her hand loosed and all but flinched herself, arrow through his eye and right into his brain and the gurgle in his throat as he died, oh how she hated all this killing and death, why had she gotten herself into all this. Lowered her bow _just_ a little. _Don't lie, Little Crane, be honest._ "Well. Maybe a little. Before you _cheated_."

"I'm a pirate!" His protest was almost a whine.

"It was low tide when you went through, there wasn't even water to pirate on!"

"She's got an engine and treads, you know!"

"She--whaaat?"

"My ship." The godforsaken nerve to actually grin at her, fangy, with an arrow still pointed, er, somewhere on his indecorous chest. "Most of 'em do. Larger, longer versions of the treads on my Rising Sun--which we're still rebuilding, how in hell do you do that much damage with just arrows, child?"

" _Why would you put wheels on a boat?_ "

"Because it's awesome!"

"It's stupid!"

"It's not stupid, it's brilliant!"

She didn't even realize she'd unnocked the arrow and loosened the bow until she found herself hitting him upside the stupid _head_ with it. It sproinged. Her bells jingled. He made some thoroughly undignified noise and batted her arm away with a big heavy hand.

"Hmph." She tossed her head. "Why are you even here, you wretch?"

He looked like he was about to grumble something at that, but then shrugged and sat up straighter, adjusting his anchor. "It would be only honorable to make sure you're recovering well from that most enjoyable battle."

Did he _ever_ say anything that wasn't nonsense? "Me?" She huffed. "You're the one who lost. And there's hardly any point in _you_ pretending to have honor, after what you did."

_That_ got a grumble. "Be a gracious winner, crane girlie."

"Be a gracious loser! 

"You didn't win because you were righteous," he snapped, like he was almost actually angry.

"Says who?"

"You won because you were tougher and more resourceful than I expected, and oh, I can respect that. But not because of anything that silly."

"And whyever not? Maybe I did. How would you know, it's not like you've ever done anything righteous in your life."

"You don't know that! Gods, you really don't know the first thing about the world if you go around assuming an honest pirate's the worst there can be--"

"How _dare_ you!" She jammed her hands on her hips and loomed over him. "I can see all, now and forever, I know way more than you possibly could!"

His eye widened for a bare moment, he stiffened--and then it narrowed as he stared back at her, unafraid, like he hadn't even _noticed_ the looming. "Oh, can you? Prove it."

Her dreams of the morning were distant pieces, scattered; she saw so many visions, so many fortunes, so many red threads spiraling off into endless light that when she didn't have a good understanding of them or a client to tell them to, she tended to. Forget. She always tried not to, it seemed awful, but--but--

"Well?" he growled, a grin tugging at his face.

She could feel her fingernails digging into her palms, her hands fisted at her sides. So annoyed she could hardly think straight. "You're running from something," she fumbled out, after what felt like an eternity.

The grin vanished, and he went very still.

"Am I." His voice was low, dangerous. "What is it?"

"Well, stay here another minute and you'll be running from _me_!"

"As if!" The butt of the anchor thumped dully against her matted deck as he rolled to his feet, the dark edge gone from his voice in an instant. His turn to loom, she supposed, not that she was impressed--why was he so _tall_ , it was so unfair. "You want to go at it again, I'm ready--any time!"

"What, you think you even have a chance like this? On _my_ shrine ship, with all my best shipmates and my generals here, and none of your toys? You couldn't cheat your way out of this!"

" _They're not toys_ \--" He loomed closer, ugh, this was going to give her a crick in her neck. "Hell, why are you so hung up on claiming I cheated, of all things? Even if I _had_ broken a course we'd agreed on, I made sure not to kill anyone, so what's so wrong with that?"

She just _stared_ at him. Ugh, how could he even ask that? Hadn't he ever had to follow a rule in his life? _Little Crane, be polite to any client, no matter how upset they are with their fortune. Never take off your bells, evil spirits are drawn to somebody as bright as you. Don't ever skip a purifying bath. Keep your body clean and free of poison, don't drink unpurified alcohol, don't breathe strange incense, don't corrupt yourself. Be honest and just. Never marry, never lie with a man. Or you'll lose everything, Little Crane._ "Because you deceived me, because it's wrong, because! It wouldn't be cheating if it wasn't!" She loomed closer right back, or tried to, at any rate, jamming a finger into his chest. "Why did you do it like that, anyway, why would you of all people make sure not to--not to kill anyone?"

He blinked, then all but pouted down at her. "Me of all people? Like I said, I'm an honest pirate--"

"Liar and a cheat--!"

"Good gods, girl, we've all done our wrongs, but that doesn't mean I'd put old men and children to the sword, I'm the Sea Devil, not the Demon King--"

"If you want to claim you're halfway decent, don't go around invading people's hometowns to begin with!"

He hissed through his teeth and turned away, sudden and sharp, off hand whipping out of his pocket to punch the wall, and she tightened her own hand on her bow and watched the tip of his anchor for a swing--but it didn't come. She could see only his blind side, patch covering half his face, mouth an unreadable twist.

Silence. Unbearable silence. She whapped him upside the head with the bow again. " _Say_ something!" 

He caught his breath, didn't look back at her, and muttered, "You want a rematch, I'll do it right this time."

She all but shrieked in exasperation. "Why would I want a _rematch_? Gods, how dumb are you? I just want you out of my seas and never harassing my shipmates and hometown again!"

"You were enjoying it before I went too far. Right?" He sounded almost calm all of a sudden. And turned, tucking his hand back in his pocket, standing up almost straight. "A rivalry like that's no good unless we both have fun, you know."

"It's not like I ever asked for a rivalry with you!"

"But you _did_ enjoy it."

"So what if I did!"

He blinked. "What do you mean, so what? It's good to have things you enjoy, isn't it?"

She opened her mouth, remembered chatting with Mr. Sanada about flames of passion--oh, he'd been so nice to her, she hoped she got to see him again soon--and closed it. Because it. Really had been fun, until he was a _jerk_. Well, he'd kind of been a jerk at the start too. And most of the time during the race. And yet still fun. Ugh. Shouldn't this be simple?

"Not if they hurt people I care about," she said after a moment.

He drew breath, straightened more, and nodded, almost grave. "No good in that."

"Says the man who--"

"I won't go after your people again. Not like that. We can fight all you like, I'd gladly challenge you again, but one on one, no collateral. You've proved a worthy opponent for the Sea Devil." His grin was back, sudden as it left, huge and fierce. "Far more so than I expected."

She glowered up at him. "Well of _course_ I did! Honestly. I've been training to fight every day since I could walk too, just like all you menfolk. I'm not just some little girl who's easy to beat up, I have to be as strong as anyone, to protect my seas!"

" _Your_ seas." He laughed. "Who named you their guardian, anyway?"

"You when I won your challenge." She stuck out her tongue.

He loomed closer with a stomp of his foot. " _Now_ who's cheating?! I reached the goal first, didn't I?"

She jerked her chin up and stomped closer in answer. "And you wouldn't have if you'd sailed the whole way! _Wheels_!"

"Of my own invention!" He loomed closer still. "And it takes true mastery to cross those straits with or without them, high tide or low, I'd like to see you try it!"

"Like I'd need to, my ship's faster than yours!" She loomed right back up at him. Or tried.

"Oh, I plan to fix that, I've already started designing new engines." He waved the scroll that he'd been studying earlier, a roll of chickenscratch and strange lines that made no sense to her whatsoever.

"A _real_ sailor would be able to keep up with nothing but the--" She grabbed the scroll out of his hand, huffed up at him--and wobbled slightly, seeing as she was on her tiptoes. "The wind!"

"Oh give that--"Her next threatening step ran her straight into his half-naked chest and sent her toppling backwards as she squeaked. He grabbed her by the elbow, snorting with laughter, his grip firm and steadying.

"Don't you dare laugh at me you ruffian!" she blurted, bumping into his chest again before she remembered to put her heels down and got her balance. "It's not my fault you're a tree!"

"I'm not--laughing at you--"

"Liar!" No, no, she was giggling too, she couldn't help it, this was ridiculous. "Liar and a sneak!"

"Why am I a _sneak_ now?!" he whined, between whoops of laughter.

"You snuck into my _room_ , jeez! A lady's quarters! You're a terrible man!"

"I did not! Your retainer let me in."

That actually startled her out of laughing; she gulped air and stared at him for a moment. "What? That's ridiculous, you're making it up, who?"

He scrubbed the back of a hand over his mouth and sobered. Slightly. "The younger of your two generals, Kono Naomasa, he received me earlier."

"Why would he let you in here--?"

"I told him I wished to apologize to you, for the occupation of Noshima."

She remembered to close her mouth before she found words, at least. Naomasa had done that...? He hadn't grown up in Noshima, not like Uncle Michinao, he'd kept a calm head through the whole thing and been the first to realize that there were no dead to be buried. Uncle Michinao would probably have taken his deck-swabbing broom to the Sea Devil if he had the chance, but Naomasa...

"Wait," she said, a little too late. "But you didn't."

"Didn't what?"

" _Apologize!_ "

He made a sputtering sort of noise. "Well, I--"

"If you're not going to do it, then you really _are_ a terrible liar!"

"I won't apologize for the life I lead--"

"Then you've got no right to protest when I call you what you are!" She felt her nails digging into her palms, huffed with anger, turned her back on him. Gods, for all that she'd tried to forget about that horrible business with Mr. Otani and Mr. Mori--had it really left her doubting herself? Knowing that people could be lying to her and she wouldn't even realize? It would be cheating to read people's fates without asking just because she was afraid, it would be _wrong_. Ugh, things were so much simpler when she'd just stayed in the shrine. Even when it was...small...

The anchor hit the deck with a thud and a clatter of chain. She turned, surprised--

The Sea Devil was on his knees, bowing low, both hands on the floor. "I am truly sorry, for my occupation of Noshima. It was never my wish to cause you such distress."

And he stayed there, not even asking her forgiveness, simply offering. She squeaked, lost and surprised for a moment, squeezed a hand over her mouth.

"Then--then yes, I accept your apology, thank you!"

His head came up, and for a moment he looked just as surprised as her--

"...but an hour hence."

There were voices coming down the hall; they both started, she turned, he lurched to his feet.

"...to see our Little Crane?" Uncle Michinao's creaking voice, louder than usual with indignation.

"She's under the protection of the gods here, it's not like he could hurt her if he wanted to, and I don't think he did..." Naomasa's voice dropped to a murmur.

"Apologize!" Michinao squawked. "I'll show him an apology! My dear hometown!"

Motochika scratched the back of his head and had the good grace to look _slightly_ sheepish as footsteps closed down the hall, the door burst open, and they all piled in, broom first.

"Uncle Michinao," Tsuruhime blurted, "it's all right, he's fine--"

The deck-swabbing broom caught the Sea Devil square across the shoulders. "Aii! Did you say your piece to Little Crane, ruffian?" Naomasa was dogging his uncle's heels, hand on his forehead, looking slightly distraught as the little old man bulled forward indignantly, his tall hat wobbling.

"Aye, I did--"

"He did--"

They spoke almost in unison; Tsuruhime squeaked and looked back over at him for a moment as he tried to fend off the broom with one gauntlet.

"Out, then, out out out!"

"Sir Michinao--"

"Out out out before I swab the deck with _you_!"

Tsuruhime and Naomasa sighed as one and stepped back to give them room. Michinao was the sweetest old fellow in the world, they both knew, but sometimes when somebody had stepped out of line he'd get into a huff, vent his spleen in some harmless and utterly ridiculous way, and be at peace with it. And this--was exactly what that was, Tsuruhime realized. Almost as if Motochika was one of his own crew, not an enemy. Which made so little sense that she could get a headache from it.

But at least seeing the Sea Devil of the West being run out of her cabin with a broom by her squawking old uncle was a surprisingly nice way to end the day. And she even still had his scroll.


	2. In Which Our Heroine Suffers a Most Rude Invitation

Tsuruhime hated waking up in the middle of the night. She'd always get muddled, head over heels and awful, if she didn't wake to the sun's rays dawning on her face, no familiar brush of insight in her dreams. Even if it was just to roll over and go back to sleep, still, she felt icky--

Rolling over didn't work quite right. Her shoulder strained. There was a lot of noise.

"Oh, you're awake? Welcome, welcome to the Devil's Lair! Well, temporary lair--just you wait until I get the Fugaku rebuilt, that'll be a thing to see."

Motochika's freakishly grinning face blurred into focus. Then the faces of about fifty or a hundred other pirates, torches flickering everywhere under the setting moon, sprawled out upon the broad deck of a ship like they were in the middle of some devilish party. _Then_ she tried to sit up and her shoulder strained again and she realized she was bound hand and foot, snug and unyielding--pirates certainly knew their knots.

She screamed loud enough that more than a few of them picked their faces up out of their grog and jerked back a foot. Motochika just raised his eyebrow. He was sprawled on a barrel like a throne, a jug of liquor dangling by a rope from one fist. Not leaning on his overgrown fish-hook for once--oh, there it was. In a neatly cleared spot in the middle of the deck, with her bow and quiver laid beside it.

"Let. Me. GO!!"

"Soon, soon." He waved a hand, expansive, a proud grin that seemed to encompass the entire oversized ship, the grinning red demon face carved into the largest bulkhead. "I've no intention of keeping you bound once you settle in, that would be dull, but it was easier to get you to my flagship this way--"

" _NOW!!_ "

A few more pirates jerked back a foot. Motochika hooked the jug onto his belt with practiced ease, stood, drew a dagger that glinted sharp as his smile. "You going to run if I do?"

"So what if I do! You talk big about doing this right and gentlemanly and then you _kidnap_ me?! Ugh! So crude!"

There was a buzz of laughter from the crew. "Aniki? Gentlemanly?"

"Oiii," he roared at them, and then turned back to her. "I never did say _that_ part, you know. But I'll have you know--" and he folded the dagger to his bare chest and sketched a bow "--your shipmates are unharmed to a man, we just snuck you out while they slept like babes. An invitation to a party, since you'd yet to be on my ship."

 Tsuruhime wobbled at least halfway up to sitting, tossed her hair out of her eyes with a jerk of her chin, and gave the accursed pirate what Uncle Michinao had once called the weaponized and lethal _pout_. Only a few days since he'd visited her to apologize, and he went and did _this_?

"It's pretty tasteless," she proclaimed.

The men roared with laughter and groaned in one. "Get her, Aniki!"

"Cut her loose and have at it!"

"The spunk never stops, I like her!"

"Should we get the Death Spinners, Aniki?"

Death Spinners--eww, she _really_ didn't want to know. No, no, she didn't have to be afraid, she'd been strong enough to beat him once all by herself, and her Twilight Ninja would always come for her. She kept glaring daggers at Motochika as he growled, indignant, and stalked closer to loom over her. "Tasteless?"

"The tastelessest!"

" _Tasteless_?" He growled, bent, caught her by the collar to drag her up, dagger still glinting in his other hand. But he didn't look angry at all--he was smiling.

"Mm-hm! ☆" She smiled right back, and winked--well, she was still a little muzzy from being woken up so rudely in the middle of the night, the glowing pink heart it threw off might have been a little wobbly.

He threw back his head and laughed, and for a moment she breathed easy--

\--and he dragged her close to his chest and the dagger flashed down--

\--by the time she tensed, the ropes binding her wrists behind her had already parted.

"Well, I'd say you've settled in just fine!" Motochika dropped her back on her butt, spun the blade in his hand, and flung it point-down into the deck, right between her ankles, splitting the last of the ropes.

"Rude!" She--well, popping to her feet was a little slow, her shoulders were stiff from being bound, but she did it anyway. Edged a step closer to her bow.

"Ungrateful brat!"

"Showoff!"

"Like you can talk!"

" _Me_?! Well, at least when I show off it's lovely and charming!" She could dive for it right now if she--

Something hit her face with a flutter of color and a terrible screech.

" _Aaaaahhhhh it's a bat it's a bat it's a bat!_ "

Laughter roared around her, but she was too busy trying to bat away the _thing_ in her face to get indignant for at _least_ two seconds.

"Oiii, c'mere, you," came Motochika's booming voice, and a moment later she was free of it as the creature flapped off. Ugh, her hair was a mess; she patted it down and glared at her new nemesis, who was settling on her old nemesis' shoulder and squawking. Motochika petted it with a fingertip. It was wearing a bandanna, and for a moment all she could do was stare and wonder why. "Good job, Kaiki."

" _Party!_ " it croaked. Tsuruhime felt her mouth drop open.

"It _talks_?" She flicked her hand up without thinking, sending the bell on her sleeve chiming. "Animals don't talk unless they're spirits, be careful!"

Motochika laughed, let the colorful bat thing walk down his outstretched arm like it lived there. "Nah, not these guys. Parrots can learn words--though why I let Masamune teach it is another problem."

" _Party!_ "

"That's the idea, girl." He grinned back at Tsuruhime. "Told her not to let you at your bow unless we were having a proper fight."

It was way, way too late for any of this. Tsuruhime puffed out her cheeks for a moment, drew a deep breath, and reminded herself that she was the warrior priestess of Iyo and it was _never_ too late for her to deal with accursed rogues. Or weird bats. That talked. "A proper fight? _That's_ why you dragged me here in the middle of the night?"

Motochika spread both arms with a shrug. "I figured I'd give you another chance to have it out with me. In case you were still upset. One on one, just like I said."

"Hmph! On your ground, on your ship, you've probably riddled it with traps. I refuse! I don't want to play your silly games right now."

She'd almost think he was pouting. "No games, no traps, just a duel, both of us fresh. What d'you say?"

"You're not fresh you're drunk!" Not that she was fresh either, really, still a bit bleary--but she hadn't fought through hordes of pirates _and_ a spiderboat, at least. After which she had beat him up soundly, disadvantage or no. Gods, was she actually considering it?

The crew laughed. "That's not drunk, hon, you'd _know_ if Aniki was drunk," somebody bellowed.

"Think of it this way--most of 'em missed our fight back at Noshima, and they're wondering whether you're really a worthy rival for me. Want to show off for them?"

Gods, she _was_ actually considering it. More than considering it. And smiling adorably. "Well, if you want so much to be punished again, I suppose I'll be nice and indulge you!"

A hundred-odd pirates hooted as one, and Motochika's grin got very, very toothy, his voice a growl. "Oh, so you want to punish me, huh? You're on!" The bird flapped up into the night sky to settle in the rigging with a screech. Men parted like the sea, reformed in a solid ring around the bow and anchor on the deck; their captain took a final swig from the jug at his waist and raised it in her general direction. "Want some?"

"Goodness no! Not unless it's blessed for a ceremony, and that is the least blessed sake I have ever seen."

"I won't tell if you break the rules."

She pouted, flipped her bow and quiver up with her toes, strapped on the one and strung the other. "That's not the point!"

"Ah, well--here you go, boys!" He tossed the jug into the crowd without even looking; a few men scrabbled for it, drank deep, passed it on. "Clear the ring!" A straggler or two scooted backwards, and dozens of bare callused feet thudded against the boards as one, marking a circle nearly as wide as the deck would allow. He sketched a bow. "Let's get going, Oracle, show me what you can do!"

"You already _know_ what I can do--remember who won our last fight! Are you going to bend the rules again?"

"First one to get knocked out of the ring or have a killing blow lined on 'em loses. Or you can tap out, but I rather doubt either of us'll do _that_. All the rules you need for a duel, eh?"

Neither exactly an advantage for an archer. And there were far, _far_ more rules in proper fighting, but he wouldn't know any of that, she supposed. She huffed. "And you'll really play fair and go down when you should?"

He hefted the anchor over his shoulder and looked indignant. "Course I would! No fun in the fight if I don't. C'mon, I've been aching for a good fight all day!"

Goodness, he was very excited about all this. She folded her hands before her, still holding her bow, and bowed properly, just as she would to one of her tutors before a spar.  "Well, then--oh! One more question!"

The crew was starting to rumble, the night air growing wild. Almost like the sacred energy drummed up within the white ropes of the sumo ring--she'd blessed matches before, during temple festivals, she knew the feel of it. Her spine tingled. "Aye?" Motochika growled, and he spun the anchor off his shoulder, chain lashing through the air.

"How far up can I go and still be in the ring?"

His grin at that was as broad as the red mask carved into his ship, and he cracked the anchor back down on deck and braced one foot on it, splayed around it in his tabi boot, crouching like a coiled spring. "As high as you can fly!"

"Then here I go!"

"Anchors away!" he bellowed, almost in the same moment, and the crew roared with one throat, and it was on.

Tsuruhime crouched in an instant, passed her bow to her left, kicked a toe lightly against the deck, and sprung, soaring, rush of cool night air in her ears as she leapt for the rigging. A smooth somersault, head over heels in midair, and as she drew an arrow and nocked it she spotted him--flames bursting from his anchor, scattering sparks like festival fireworks across the deck as he spun up and launched himself after her, his crew cheering for their big brother. Her first shot went wild as he scudded from side to side in midair, and she landed light as a feather on a spar and focused. A few bare seconds before he closed, but that was more than enough time, pink beam of unsullied intent blooming from the tip of her arrow. Wood peeling away to pure light, and the blow caught him square in the chest in a flash of ice and flickering petals.

Ice that burst to steam as he growled like a beast and shook it off, melted in the heat of his battle aura--smoking purple and flame, stirred up in the heat of combat and by the voices of his men. She hadn't seen it rise before, not when they fought at Noshima, but she didn't have a moment to wonder why. She'd knocked him back, but he'd caught himself in the net latter leading up to the crow's nest, easy as anything--well, he did know his own ship. Kicked the anchor back up to his hands and sent the head of it lashing towards her, chain snaking and clattering. She jumped again; the hook caught on the spar a bare moment after her foot left it, wood crunching under the blow. Chain caught, reeled tight; the ogre growled, and as she spun through the air again, the fight burned urgent in her blood and time slowed.

He shook the anchor; the chain rippled, the hook halfway free, and she saw her chance, landed in a firing crouch on the chain itself, and fired into the sky. The arrow burst into light, rained back down, even as he shook her off the chain with a great thrash of one arm and tore the hook free. She spun, thrown wild, tucked into a somersault and sprung sideways off the solid wall of the main mast, and the falling pink arrows of light froze him stock-still for a moment just before he took another swing at her. She had him, she had him, the moment she could land and nock another arrow--

Wildfire burst out in a roaring loop of flame the moment he broke free--sooner, sooner than she'd thought, the bellows of his crew hitting a fever pitch as their devil's flame kindled. The brutal swipe of his anchor couldn't touch her, from where he was perched, but it hardly needed to, the heat of it hit her like a staggering wall. She missed her landing, yelped, dropped an arrow spinning from her right hand. Night air shimmered, the web of masts and rigging spun end over end--

 _Sacred bow protect me_ , she prayed, wordless, no time to speak, and felt the fine bamboo and leather swell under her hands. Balled up as she fell, spinning faster, some blur of flame and purple leather chasing her as Motochika flung himself down in her wake--grabbed the tip of her bow with one hand, the other after one frightening fumbling moment, tucked her feet between her arms and planted her toes on the wood, and as the other end hit the deck, it bent. Bent, coiled, near to snapping for a moment, and she prayed for soaring on white, white wings, prayed as the sea devil hit the deck and spun his flaming anchor with a roar, prayed as her own battle aura rose in steaming pink and flecks of ice off her skin.

"Let's show them what we're made of!"

" _Aniki!!_ "

The bow sprung like a catapult. Tsuruhime tucked her arms to her sides and soared into the sky like an arrow herself, as the crew bellowed in answer, as the anchor slammed down with a massive gout of flame and a crack like thunder. She shot free of the explosion, peaked, so high she could see the whole ship beneath her like a toy, and drew an arrow from her quiver as she fell, a bright, bright smile tugging at her lips. She could fly like her Twilight Ninja himself, she could do anything! All she needed was her bow--there it was, spinning end over end, thrown straight up towards her by the force of his attack--

She caught it, nocked the arrow, drew as if to fire into the ground, and landed neatly on his broad shoulders with the point buried in his thick white hair.

"Yield!"

The parrot screeched. He froze, digging his heels into the deck. A rush of surprise ran through the crew, like a hundred men had the wind knocked out of them at once.

And then he laughed, a great whoop of joy, shoulders shaking under her feet. "What d'you say, boys, am I too hard-headed for that to count?"

The crew roared in answer. "You gotta hit Aniki harder if you wanna punish him, missie!" somebody yelled.

"Can it, sons-of-bitches!"

She stomped on his shoulder. "Yield, dummy!"

Flames died. He jammed the anchor point-down into the smoking deck, reached up to--pat her ankle? She squawked. "Aye, aye, I yield, you more than earned that one!"

" _Party!_ " shrieked the parrot from the rigging. A few of the men echoed her. Tsuruhime loosened her bow, considered her situation very seriously for a moment, and decided to see if the arrow would stay if she tucked it into Motochika's hair--it _looked_ thick enough.

"Do I get to go home--" She squeaked, planted a hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as he spread his arms and turned, for all the world as if he was showing her off. The arrow stayed.

"Tell me, boys, is she good enough for you?"

More pirates roared yea than nay, from the sound of it. "Far better than the rotten old eel!" somebody hollered. Tsuruhime shifted her feet a little, planted her hands on her hips, and stood, full height, chin up. Of _course_ she was good enough! And he was more than strong enough to carry her, reaching up to plant his big hands over her feet to steady her as he waded in amongst his crew. Even if it made not a single bit of sense that _they_ would all celebrate her when she won--might as well enjoy it!

"Break out the rest of the barrels, men, let's finish this party! We've got a famous guest to honor, after all!"


	3. In Which the Dark King Unexpectedly Disrupts the Celebrations

The party that night on Motochika's flagship ran very late, very loud, and about five different bewilderingly happy pirates offered Tsuruhime sake. Not what she'd expected after she beat up their captain! By the time the parrot fluttered up with a little parrot-sized jug, she decided that enough was enough and she really desperately needed a rest. Or at least someplace quieter.

Belowdecks was darker, which didn't help with her sleepiness, but quieter, at least. A couple of tuckered out pirates snored boozily in the narrow hallway just past the hatch, and once she picked her way past them, it was almost soothing down there, though still the smell of too much sake hung on the air. The deck was worn smooth, the ship well-built, she could almost pretend she was home--

\--and really, she had all those lessons about how dangerous it was to drink to thank for her _life_ , because if she'd been even a little witless she would have missed the razor flash of steel and darkness and that would have been that.

"You-- _traitor!!_ How _dare_ you show your face before me again?"

Shrieking was really, _really_ not the proper and dignified thing to do, even when the former scourge of the West, the Dark King himself--who had mysteriously abandoned Osaka and never joined battle with Ieyasu, who had left the remnants of the Toyotomi armies wandering leaderless--exploded out of a pirate ship's cabin to jam the hilt of his sword under her chin.

"Wha--why--why are _you_ here?" Maybe a stupid question under the circumstances, but really, urgently pressing, this was confusing on top of everything else.

"I offered my life to Lord Motochika in atonement for my retainer's deviousness and treachery, and so by his unfathomable mercy I live by his side. But I cannot countenance showing you such mercy, Oracle, you who swore to fight for me and then betrayed me for Ieyasu's despicable horde!"

At least he _talked_ before trying to slice her open again, albeit in a fierce rush, she wasn't even sure how he managed to get that many words out that quickly. She threw herself sideways, found space, strung her bow in one smooth motion--boxed in like this, she barely had room to shoot, she couldn't keep him at range, could her Twilight Ninja even find her here--no, he'd found her in the badger's burrow, he could find her anywhere, because he was _magical_ \--

"Lord Hideyoshi, grant me permission to exterminate this--"

" _Oiii!_ " The roar wasn't Mitsunari's, and the thump of an anchor shook the deck, and a moment later the Dark King was a bundle of spiky black knees and elbows tumbled head over heels in a net, swinging gently.

"My Lord--!" the net yelped.

"She's my guest, be polite." Motochika, with a fresh jug dangling from one fist, rested a foot on the flange of his anchor and glowered up at the feared warlord he'd just casually dangled from his ceiling.

"I'm not your guest, you kidnapped me," Tsuruhime corrected--arrow nocked, pink beam of focus shining right through the net. If Mitsunari found purchase he could cut himself out in an instant--she couldn't let her guard down, not against somebody that fast. Ugh, why did every other person she met want to _kill_ her, didn't anybody know it was rude to kill a priestess? Why had he called Motochika his lord, what was going _on_?

"They aren't really mutually exclusive, you know," Motochika said offhandedly, and then nudged the bundle of black armor with the tip of his anchor. Almost fondly, strange as it was to think it. "You going to stay your hand if I let you down? She's my honored rival, after all, I can't have anyone else killing her."

She'd thought Mitsunari would be struggling, but he just hung there, sword still sheathed and trapped awkwardly in the rope, still as a scruffed cat. "Yes, my Lord."

An easy swipe of the anchor sent him tumbling to the floor, and he stayed there on one knee, crouched, sword clutched in one hand and so tense with rage that she could see him shaking. Motochika's eye caught her, and he raised one hand soothingly, palm down. "Stand down. This fight ain't happening tonight."

 _Can't have anyone else killing her._ She felt like her blood was cold, all through, felt fine, fine ice dusting her skin as she kept her bow up and drawn. _Never show fear, Little Crane._ As long as she had an arrow on the string, she could do anything, even staring down the length of it at two, _two_ powerful men--gods, had the Sea Devil tricked her again, did he really mean to kill her after all the fun they'd had? Motochika's other hand tightened on the shaft of his anchor, leather creaking, tension on his face and more of a snap of command in his voice than she'd ever heard. "Mitsunari, swear it to me, you'll not kill her. Hear out her reasons, talk it out, fight it out later, whatever else you need, but her life is under my protection, understand?"

He was silent for a long moment, still down on one knee, head bowed and utterly rigid. She couldn't see his face, couldn't even _guess_ what he might be thinking, what he might say--not until he flattened himself even lower somehow, laid his sword on the floor, and grated out, "Yes, my Lord. I swear it."

"My thanks." Almost a murmur from Motochika, strangely private. And then he looked over to her, jammed the anchor point-down in the deck. "What happened? I'd no idea you joined the Western Army."

"Well, it was...only for a little, like you said." She slowly lowered her bow, ducked her head a little in Mitsunari's general direction. "Not long after I'd set out to try to stop the fighting in Kyushu, Mr. Otani sent me a letter--ah, he worked for him?" she added for Motochika's benefit.

"Aye, I knew the man." His arms crossed again, voice strangely flat.

"He said all these nice things, in the letter, he invited me to Osaka Castle and wanted me to meet all his allies, I was really excited. But then I found out..." She huffed, ugh this was embarrassing. "Mr. Otani was--manipulating me. I had no idea, when I first met you." Telling her that Mitsunari was a kind and righteous man...well, that would be rude to explain to his face, goodness. Even if it was more like the top of his head. "I only promised to join your army because he lied to me. When I found out, I wanted nothing more to do with any of his friends, and Ieyasu reached out to me not long after that..."

Mitsunari's head came up and his eyes went very wide for a moment, like she'd shot him, and he gave Motochika a strangely desperate look.

"Aye, it would hardly surprise me." Motochika leaned back against the wall, gaze heavy on Mitsunari for all that it was one-eyed.

"Then--then--" He rose so quickly that she almost jumped, but all he did was fling himself back to his knees, more in her direction than Motochika's this time. "Grant me permission to beg your forgiveness for his treachery! You were right to deem his company unworthy. I could not possibly condone such a foul act."

And she'd thought half of what _Motochika_ said made no sense. Blinked, softened. "It's not your fault. And it came out all right, after all! As long as you're okay, I mean."

"It is my responsibility to atone for his crimes! I do not expect someone as frivolous as you to understand."

"Well there's no need to be rude about it! If you didn't tell him to do it, then you didn't make it happen, so it's definitely not your fault."

"Allowing such treachery to exist under my very eyes is a greater fault than I can ever expiate," Mitsunari growled, mostly teeth.

She opened her mouth, closed it again as she realized how plaintive he sounded, and felt his eyebrows knit. "It must have hurt you, to realize it...I'm sorry."

"Do not waste your pity on me!" he snapped. "I deserve it and wish it not!"

And here she was being nice to him! He really was a very strange man. She pouted down at him. "If you insist. But you do have my forgiveness."

He blinked up at her in bewilderment.

"You do! You did just ask for it." She tilted her head, rummaged. "Well, okay, you asked for permission to ask for it, and you've got that too!"

Mitsunari looked outright shocked. "Such generosity is inefficient--"

Motochika's hand landed heavily on his shoulder. "That's settled, lad." Pretty efficiently, actually, as far as she was concerned. "What about her account with you? You going to need to settle that now?"

"There is nothing to settle," Mitsunari muttered through his teeth. "The true sin was Gyobu's deceitfulness, she has done no wrong, and I bear the blame in my intransigence." He glared up at her. "You cannot simply expect me to accept such nonsense!"

"I can, though! It's not nonsense, it's common sense."

He lurched to his feet again, and she tensed for a moment, but it was only to list in Motochika's direction. "Allow me to beg your leave, my Lord."

Motochika, unruffled by all this, just nodded. "Aye. Go roll anyone passed out onto their sides and then get my cabin ship-shape, I'll see you later."

Mitsunari gave no farewell to her more than a grunt, and stalked off. Motochika tilted his head at her, leaning back against the wall.

"I'll let him settle down and talk to him later. You all right?"

"Of course." She finally remembered to hook her bow back over her shoulder. "He just surprised me, I had no idea he was even here."

"Well, he's pretty new, and came aboard under some damn strange circumstances. He's one of mine now, though."

The Dark King, a pirate? She tried to imagine him amongst the carousing mob on deck and failed utterly. "He must have trouble fitting in."

Motochika laughed ruefully. "Aye, that's putting it lightly."

"Why is he even _awake_ at this ungodly hour then."

"He doesn't sleep." Motochika spread his hands with a helpless sort of shrug. "Or eat, unless you shove it in his face like a picky cat. He just keeps going until he passes out somewhere and then somebody carts him to a hammock and beds him down."

She closed her jaw a moment too late, at least there weren't _too_ many flies. Gods, everyone kept lording it over her with how hopelessly inexperienced she was, but at least she knew how to take care of herself! And this was the man who nearly went head to head with Ieyasu himself for control of the land? " _Why?_ "

"Because he's Mitsunari?" He huffed, the corner of his mouth twitched down, and looked over his shoulder as if to make sure the man wasn't in earshot. "Because he questions nothing, takes everything to extremes, and idolized an unyielding fanatic who despised simple human needs as weakness?"

She found herself frowning, drew herself up straighter. "Was...that what Mr. Toyotomi was like?"

"Aye. I didn't know the man personally, but I faced him in battle, I lost a lot of good men that day. And I know how he left the lands he conquered. Not that I'll ever say this in front of Mitsunari, but the boy's warped and it's not all just the way he came."

Her frown softened, and she looked aside for a moment. "He's sort of like...one of my ship cats got sick once, and she was all puffy and hissy and terrible the whole time."

Motochika laughed, his smile fond. "Pretty much."

"Well, I suppose one thing Mr. Otani told me was true...Mitsunari is an honorable man. In his way."

"Heh. To a fault. Not that his way rules out doing some really atrociously bloody business, but at least he listens to me now."

"That's...probably good." Not that the Sea Devil was up to much good, really, but it was probably still better than trying to conquer the entire country with Mr. Otani of all people helping.

"Damn well sure hope it is." He waved his sake jug, grabbed his anchor, and sauntered back down the hallway. "C'mon back up on deck, it's stuffy down here."

She followed, pouting. "When do I get to go _home_. You'd better not be planning to keep me prisoner."

"Get to? What, you're not going to break out and dramatically win your freedom?" He grinned over his shoulder at her.

"Do you _want_ me to beat you up again." She tried to stifle a yawn and lost. Mitsunari's sword in her face had given her a spine-tingling jolt of battle-rush, and now that it was fading, she felt even muzzier than before.

He sputtered, turned back away from her, and slurred something into his jug that she couldn't quite make out.

* * *

Back on deck was--a little quieter, at least. Some of them _had_ passed out. Mitsunari was a shadow stalking amongst the crew, kicking them onto their sides and muttering about lax discipline; he paid her no heed. A circle of twenty men was singing something long and elaborate that she could barely make out with all the slurring, with their captain at their head taking a swig after every other verse. Tsuruhime plopped down on a thick coil of rope and yawned hugely--gods, she was too _tired_ to beat him up again. Maybe she'd have to break out in the morning. Uncle Michinao must be so worried...

The men broke into harmony and swayed. Hard to think they were the ruffians that stalked through Noshima not a week before...

Rope coils were unreasonably comfortable to flop on.

She woke perhaps an hour or two later, rolled onto her side with a footprint on her shirt. Stretched, yawned, mumbled _rude_ under her breath, and took stock. Her bow and quiver were still right where they were, most of the pirates were limp bundles on the deck, and the bat thing was perched on her feet with its head under its wing. She stared at it in confusion--it barely even seemed to have a neck, how could it contort itself like that? It stirred, croaked at her, and lost its bandana once it unfolded itself.

"Keeping an eye on me, little one?" She rubbed her eyes, picked up the bandana, and offered it forth. It sidled up her leg, stuck its head under her hand, and let her tie in back on in a bow, after a few light nips to her fingers--startled her at first, but it was as gentle as a kitten. Well. Not that bad, she supposed. It _was_ surprisingly soft.

She stood eventually, found a bucket to lower over the side and splash water on her face. The cold light of dawn was coming up--just the most distant glimmer, but even that heartened her. There was a spot of purple up in the forecastle, and she climbed to find Motochika sprawled on the railing high over the sea, back propped on the shaft of his anchor that he'd buried in the deck.

"Mornin', Oracle."

She bowed politely. "Good morning!"

"...how are you this perky right now."

"Because _I_ didn't get drunk."

He laughed, waved a jug at the brightening sky. " _Get_?"

He was _absurd._ "I guess I'll have an easy time breaking out then!"

"Oiii." He rolled to one side, lurched to his feet--and had to brace one hand on his anchor. "Ahahaha, fine, you have vanquished me. You'll see where you are soon enough, you're not far from where y'were anchored. If you steal a longboat we're gettin' it back. If you even need to, way you jump around." He paused, leaning heavily on the anchor, and grunted in surprise. "Same time we get back those engine plans--don't think I've forgotten about that, Missie!"

"You just did." She stuck out her tongue.

"I'm drunk," he protested, and flicked her on the forehead.

"Be a gentleman!"

"'M exempt, I'm a pirate."

"Nobody's exempt!" She drew herself up; he just stretched, rambled about the deck, anchor still set aside, careless as anything. Goodness, she really could beat him up right now, now matter how tired she was, even if he wasn't--letting her go, apparently. "You don't actually take this rivalry thing very seriously, do you?"

He went very still for a moment, then spread his arms with an odd, bright laugh, still with his back to her. "'S better that way, y'know."

Gods, how drunk was he? Drunk enough to be honest?

"So...you're not planning to kill me someday?"

Motochika's head whipped around and he stared at her in unguarded shock, almost horror, jolted out of whatever pleasant sake haze he'd been in. "No! _Gods_ no, whatever gave you that idea?"

She pouted a little, stared back up at him. "What you said to Mitsunari--"

"What I--" He rummaged for a long, long moment, then buried his face in one hand with a groan. "Sometimes you--have to say the strangest things to Mitsunari, t' get anything through his head. He felt entitled to your life, I had t' make it make sense to him why he shouldn't. Well. Not sure he gets the honored rivals thing either, I mean, him and Ieyasu--shit, it's complicated." He grumbled, peeled his hand off his face. "I like a good fight as much as the next guy--okay, more than the next guy, usually--but I'm not bloodthirsty except when it comes to revenge." He spread his arms, still holding onto his sake. "And I trust that you'll never give me cause for that."

She hesitated. "What do you mean?"

He drew a breath, let it out, and just looked at her, gaze steady as he could manage. "I mean that you are a truly good and kind person. An' I trust you would not wage war on me, use me, or destroy what I hold dear."

"Of course I am!" She tossed her head, chin high. It was true, why would she ever do anything like that, no matter how much of a scoundrel he was?

"Well, there you go then." His eye narrowed slightly, studying her, even as he listed a little starboard to lean against the solid bulk of the foremast. "You--must have taken it hard, when you realized what Yoshitsugu was up to."

She looked away, pouted--sure, she had, but how had he gotten on that? "It wasn't just him. He told me to go talk to an ally of his, they were planning to use me for something together, only he--" She jerked her chin up, indignant even weeks later. Or had it been months? Time felt so different, now that she wasn't in the shrine every single day. "He gave away their plans." He _had_ , too, told her just like that because he couldn't stand her. "Kind of silly of him, really."

"An ally of Yoshitsugu's..." Motochika murmured.

"Mr. Mori Motonari," she said with a nod--and it was like watching a shutter slam down behind his eye, his whole countenance cold with anger where but a moment ago it had been the kindest she'd ever seen on him.

" _Motonari--_ "

She stepped closer, tilted her head. "You know him too?"

The leather of his gloves was creaking again--he'd grabbed for his anchor without her even noticing. "I killed him."

She couldn't help a small squeak. The man had been so _rude_ , he'd insulted everything she was, tricked her, and tried to kill her for the supposed crime of being annoying, but still--she'd stood toe to toe with him not two months before, she'd fought him, he'd been alive as any, and to realize he was dead _jarred_ her.

"...why?"

He looked away, leaving her on his blind side, jaw set. Opened his mouth, closed it, and laughed, strange and almost wild. "That's a tale that'll ruin any party, I ain't telling it now."

"The party's kind of over," she pointed out. "Everyone's asleep."

"It'll ruin a fine morning, then."

It _was_ a fine morning, too, from the look of it. The sun rose fast over the sea; she wasn't up quite yet, but the fine white light of dawn was everywhere. She could land, mist clinging to the rocky shores of Shikoku; he was anchored a fair ways out, not within sight of any villages, but a few longboats puttered by in easy jumping range. Sunrise was close, she could feel it in the air.

He eased his hand off the anchor, took three paces towards the sun, had a final swig of sake and left the bottle on the railing.

He _had_ said she could make a dramatic break-out.

"Well then," she said, and tapped her heels together pertly. "I accept your respect and good will." Couldn't help smiling as she said it, really genuinely smiling because those _were_ wonderful things to have, even if everything else was strange and complicated, even if she had one hand behind her slipping an arrow from the quiver. "And I thank you for your hospitality." She bowed, to distract him as she strung her bow in an instant--well, he seemed distracted enough seeing as he was grinning like an idiot, genuinely pleased in return. "But I must say goodbye for now!  ☆"

She had the arrow nocked, aimed, and loosed in an instant--to pin the dangling sleeve of his coat to his own mast.

"Why you--"

He sputtered, lunged, coat caught in the straps that crossed his chest--even then, she only had a few seconds until he burst loose. But that was all she needed--one arrow after another into his trousers, just under his armpit, gauntlets, collar, aim so fine she didn't draw a drop of blood. He had _just_ enough sense to freeze for the last few before struggling, hard, a wordless growl, but leather and canvas didn't tear easy and the arrows were fine strong shafts buried deep in hard wood.

And then he just sagged back against the mast, held up by his semblance of clothes, and laughed. Laughed wild and helpless and still quite drunk. "Payback again, eh, Oracle?"

"Isn't that the idea?" She hooked her bow back over her shoulder and hopped closer, leaving a trail of sparkles and hearts. "It was just so crude and _awful_ , being kidnapped and tied up like that, after all!" She found heavy sailing ropes coiled on the deck; she'd handled the like before. Too thick to bind him securely like he'd bound her, even if she knew how, but she could at least get some turns around him in case he worked the arrows free, lash him to his own mast like a bundle of spare netting. The morning watch would find him soon enough, she was sure. "So--goodbye for now!"

He wiggled fingers over a thick line of rope. _Still_ hadn't stopped laughing. Maybe he wasn't a dastardly pirate so much as a _crazy_ one. "See you around!"

She jumped, startled the living daylights out of a few weary fishermen rowing out before dawn, apologized and blessed their day's work. Jumped again, as high as she could to the outline of a boat in the mist--and landed lightly on Naomasa's head.

" _Little Crane!_ "

"Wha--how--hi?" She squawked in utter surprise and tumbled off him to sprawl into the bottom of the boat--one of her own, painted red about the rail, the big sister of the one she'd learned to row in.

"Little Crane! Little Crane, are you all right--gods, we thought that pirate had done something terrible to you--"

He looked like he'd rolled out of bed and into his armor, hair wild, bits of his sleeping yukata sticking out awkwardly between the plates; he clutched her shoulders tight and looked ready to sob with relief. "I'm fi-i-i-i-ine it's all right I promise I'm still here I'll be here even if you stop shaking me."

He stopped, blinked, dragged her into a hug and laughed weakly. "All right. I believe you. Just..." Caught her by the shoulders to hold her out again, taking in rumpled clothing, the footprint on her side, singed corners from the duel. "By the gods, what _happened_?"

She looked down at herself, looked back up at him, and startled giggling. She'd barely even _slept_ \--suddenly now that she was safe she was so tired she felt giddy. "I--beat him in a duel--and later I tied him to his mast and escaped--" Couldn't _stop_ giggling, gods, she flopped on Naomasa's shoulder and kept babbling. "His flappy rainbow bat thing is actually sort of nice even if it talks like Mr. Date all the time and the Dark King is a cranky pirate now and..."

She'd never actually said that she was his rival, she realized. She'd just sort of gone with it. But she didn't exactly mind.


	4. In Which the Priestess of Iyo Receives Many Guests

The second try at sleeping for a week went a little better than the first, mostly because Tsuruhime _had_ been up all night--she'd never been up that late outside of shrine vigils, and it left her with a terrible headache and feeling like morning was evening. But she was...happier than she'd been after the battle at Noshima. Far happier. More than she had any right to be, seeing how she was kidnapped and nearly killed and all!

She padded up from an afternoon nap and perched on the bow of her ship to watch the spray kicked up in golden sunlight as they sailed northwest for the temple on Omishima Island, turning her face to the wind and grinning. It _was_ time for work, after all. She'd hadn't had time to properly attend to her duties since she'd first sailed off to punish the warlords fighting in the south. Since Mr. Otani's letter, Mr. Mori's treachery, pledging her support to Ieyasu for a battle that never came--at least now she knew why. Then the Sea Devil's challenge and a long, long race, and though she'd done her priestess' work on her shrine ship on the way, she hadn't visited the Kono family shrine for months.

The shrine where she'd been raised. Most of the time, at least, she'd been out on the shrine ship before--but never for this long, and never this far out, and her heart fluttered when she passed back under the familiar gate, felt the bright clear purity and power of the place wash over her like the freshest breeze. Home.

It seemed--smaller.

There were so many pilgrims piled up, waiting to see the famous Oracle, that she had no time to be bored for at _least_ a week. Or nostalgic. She read fortunes until her eyes streamed from the sunlight, blessed those who sought it, banished a few unfortunate spirits, and showed proper hospitality to all. More than pilgrims, too--refugees. Not many, a few ragged families paddled over in small boats from empty villages, but every one made her heart ache. They'd gathered together, piling borrowed bedding in one of the shrine's side rooms; one of the younger mikos had tended to them. A tiny peasant grandmother named Kiku, wrinkled as a dried pea and tough as lacquered leather, came to speak for them, and Tsuruhime received her just as she'd receive any other, and she bowed with gratitude over fine tea and spilled their tales of woe in slow drops.

"But why come all the way here? Such a long journey...it can't have been easy, with all the fighting going on since the Toyotomi fell."

Kiku bowed her head. "We'd heard rumors. Go to Shikoku, they said. Look for the island that moves every night, they said, the island that's a great fortress ship, Oni Island, and the Sea Devil will find a home for you. Better the devil than letting the Toyotomi ravage your land, take all your men to be soldiers so your little children must break their backs at labor, because in this bloody world, the devil is a good man." She wrung her hands. "Better _that_ than the Dark King coming through, when he is in his bloodlust none in his path live. Aiii, but the island sunk, they said, the lord of the Toyotomi broke it with one blow of his terrible fist, and even the Sea Devil was lost in the waves. But we had already set out, and didn't know where was safe, and thought some of his men might yet live. Still we thought our journey would be in vain until we heard word that your shrine was open to all in need."

She felt her eyes widen as she spoke. Motochika would do that? The feared pirate, taking in ragged strangers? She found it hard to imagine--yet he'd been so kind to Mitsunari, who'd caused so much trouble and pain...

"He's alive!" she got out, rather quickly, the moment she realized it needed saying. "The Sea Devil, I mean."

"Truly?"

She nodded. "I saw him with my own eyes, just five days ago. He's as lively an ogre as ever. I think he might still be out an island, though, he said something about rebuilding." Best to leave out the whole rival thing right now, maybe.

Kiku's face cracked in the first tiny slice of a smile she'd seen on her. "Thank you for that news, then, Honored Oracle--even if it is a little thing compared to your hospitality, my deepest thanks. We must take what little hope we can get."

Tsuruhime smiled warmly in answer, ducked her head. "Take that seed and let it grow, Granny Kiku. This may be Omishima Island, not Oni Island, but you are still welcome, and we will still find you a new home."

* * *

Most of those who came to have their fortunes read were weary pilgrims or battle-worn warriors fearing their next march would be their last, but one--one surprised her. A boy younger than her, perhaps no more than twelve or thirteen, thin and cautious, but holding his head high. Neatly groomed and dressed to the nines in clothes far too old for him, formal sleeves of his haori stitched with a tomoe crest she hadn't seen before. He bowed, painfully precise, looking small in his coat, and she glimpsed two sickles tucked in the back of his obi as black fabric fluttered in the wind.

"Greetings, Honored Oracle. I am Kobayakawa Takakage, of the Kobayakawa clan of Karasu Castle, and I have come this day to ask you what you see inside me, for the time has come for me to find my own strength."

She smiled and bowed in answer. "Then I will guide you to the best of my abilities. Please, come sit."

They settled on her deck, and a cool sea breeze stirred up, ringing bells across the ship. The sun was very bright; it was a good day for reading. Even docked at the temple, she would read on the shrine ship, open to the sky--it worked best for her, always had.

"What must I do, Oracle?" His hands were tight on his knees, almost white-knuckled. She smiled at him encouragingly.

"Is there more you wish to tell me, of what answers you seek? My visions will show me what the gods will, but I can try to focus on something in particular."

"I..." He hesitated for a moment, looking down, then met her gaze again. "I wish to know myself, if that's the sort of thing you're asking. Whatever form that takes."

She nodded. "Mm-hm! People come to me for that often. It's okay."

"Huh. Okay." He ducked his head a little, sounding far more his age as he relaxed a little. "I've been named the successor to the head, so I guess I need to see if I'm strong enough."

"I understand. Having to step up to that sort of thing when you don't know what you're capable of...it's a little scary."

"I'm not scared!" He jerked up his chin a little. "Okay. Maybe a little. I guess you'll probably see everything either way."

"Probably! But it's okay to admit it even if I don't, I won't tell." She slid her bow off her shoulder, bent it against the deck to string it with perfect, formal precision--stringing it for battle was one thing, she could do it one-handed and blindfolded, but this was for the ritual, it must be done right. "Are you ready?"

He squared himself, nodded. She rested the bow across her knees, bowed one more time, scooted back three paces, slid her left foot forward with carefully controlled grace as she rose to one knee, and raised the bow to frame his face, focusing. Intoned her prayer as she pulled out an arrow, nocked it, raised to fire into the sky with a soft whistle and a trail of sparkles.

And light poured down in answer, bathing her. The boy just named successor to the head, facing the challenge of it, the danger, the weight of future leadership. He felt brittle, crackling and tense, like dried branches, but with a hard stone of endurance at the core of him. He had much growing yet to do, but he would survive--what would let those dried branches put out roots and leaves and thrive, she wondered, and let her eyes drift shut, and searched...

Father, father, he was planted in thin soil and did not grow. A boy yet to truly sprout, only putting out dry and fragile branches. She felt her eyebrows knit, her heart ache; his family survived, yet still he was lonely, somehow that was so sad. A peach pit is hard as stone, and breaks when the seedling sprouts under water and love; he feared breaking, and that very fear made him brittle. Within the shell--

She gasped. Light, so much light, golden and wonderful, so thick and bright she could all but roll around in it. No more crackling, no more fear, just glowing, glowing, glowing. She felt a wide smile on her face even outside of the vision--he'd be all right.

"...Oracle?"

The vision faded as the arrow vanished in the sky. She lowered her bow, still smiling.

"Yes! Oh, you'll be all right in the end, I've never felt anything quite like that."

He looked worried; she settled back to sit properly and rested her bow across her knees. "What--did you feel?"

"I...well, I did see how you were afraid, but like I said, I won't tell anyone." She told him the rest, as best as she could manage--it wasn't always that abstract, but well, he'd asked after inner truths, and so it was. He went very wide-eyed for a moment as he digested it, bowed his head slowly with a strange lopsided smile. "So there it is--you'll be all right, you'll shine like anything, just don't be afraid of breaking open a little."

"I..." He swallowed. "I guess so. Thank you."

* * *

After a week or two, she started having time to breathe again, time to fall back into her old routines. In mid-morning, as she was finishing up her daily archery practice--getting rid of arrows with dented fletches by splitting them with new ones across the space between two ships--she was startled by a clap of distant thunder and a trail of clouds jetting across the sky.

"Mr. Honda...?" She shielded her eyes and squinted up--no, it wasn't the great general's bulky brown form, just a horse and a man in blue. How was Mr. Date even _doing_ that?

It made a little more sense about an hour later, when something banging against the hull near the lifeboats proved to be an exhausted horse and a limp bundle of spears and red leather, both soaking wet and steaming gently.

"Oh my goodness--Mr. Sanada, are you all right?" Some of her shipmates hauled him up, and Uncle Michinao started cheerfully thumping his back to empty him out, something he had long, long practice in. Not _all_ of which had been from teaching Tsuruhime to swim, but, well. Some of it.

"A thousand," he croaked, loudly, and dissolved into coughing. "A thousand thanks for your timely rescue, I am in your debt!"

"Get him hot tea, see that his cow's taken care of!" More and more of her shipmates were gathering around; Tsuruhime crouched in front of Yukimura, steadied his shoulders as he coughed, and fussed.

"Horse, dear," Michinao said absently.

Well so _what_ if she'd spilled ink on her book of animals once and they'd gotten all blurred up and she'd never learned them properly.

Once Yukimura was settled into her visiting room with a blanket and a bowl of tea to warm up, she soon learned what on earth was going on.

"...and I did not realize until I reached the shores of the Seto Sea the true nature of the challenge he had set for me, to go to Satsuma by way of Shikoku for our race! To ride across the sky and over the sea, as he can with his astounding Magnum Boost technique! I, Yukimura, truly faltered in that moment, I regret it still! And with that hesitation in my heart, I could not match his flawless technique! The fire in my soul was insufficient!" He bowed in profound shame, shivered, and politely took a sip of tea.

"I'm sure you'll do better next time," she said soothingly. "The victory goes to the one with the most passion, remember?"

He blinked, jaw dropping open a little. "Truly it does! Such is the wisdom of the Oracle!"

She couldn't help a bit of a giggle. "Ah, I can't accept such praise, I'm just repeating what somebody else told me, when I was sailing on my own race."

"Who, if I may ask? Who has such a pure understanding of the ways of battle?"

"Just somebody I met once while traveling--he was very kind to me. They call him the Tiger Cub of Kai."

Yukimura's mouth dropped open--fortunately after he finished drinking more tea. "There--there--there is another Tiger Cub of Kai? How could I fail to realize that I had a brother in Oyakata-sama's teachings?"

She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing _too_ much. "Oh, I'm sure there are many who would be honored to be your brothers-in-arms! But I meant the Tiger Cub in front of me."

Yukimura actually looked around for a moment in bewilderment--then slowly pointed to himself with his free hand.

"Mm-hm! ☆"

"M-me? My apologies, I have no memory of this!"

"It's all right!" Gods, it was really hard not to laugh at the dear man. "But you see, such is the wisdom of the Tiger Cub!"

He ducked his head, flustered into a smile. "Then I will bear those words in my heart, even if they may be my own! My thanks!"

"Any time! I'm glad I got to see you again so soon, Mr. Sanada. It really gave me a boost, knowing that you believed in me like that, so thank you!"

"I am glad to be of help!" He shivered again, and she flapped her hand at his tea bowl, and he drank. "Truly, I am now in your debt--is there anything I can do for you now? I will make an offering at your shrine, of course!"

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it--an offering is welcome any time, but it's my duty to help how I can. Can I ask you something, though?"

"Whatever you wish!"

"How...do you know, when you're really, properly somebody's rival? What does it mean to you? I know you have a famous rivalry with Mr. Date, I guess I'm curious."

"You flatter me, Honored Oracle! My own rivalry stands only in the shadow of the wisdom of Oyakata-sama and the God of War! But if you wish it, I would be honored to give what small counsel I can! Has your battle with the Sea Devil continued, is that why you ask?"

"Mm, yes!"

"I am glad to hear it! I saw how strongly the flames of passion burned within you when you restocked in Ueda Castle upon your journey! If your heart is still so ablaze, then it could indeed be a rivalry worth pursuing!"

She succumbed the temptation to make herself tea too--it was hardly a proper ceremony, after all, just hospitality, and getting a whole bowl or three of hot tea into the still-dripping Yukimura was far more important than passing cups around and sipping. And considered that as she whisked. "I think so! Well. Differently, maybe. At the end of the race...he did something that really upset me, it was very dishonorable of him. I punished him! And he apologized later, and said he wouldn't do it again, and so far he hasn't. So I guess it came out all right."

Yukimura looked highly offended. "Truly a grave error on his part, to dishonor a potential rival! I had not realized the Sea Devil was such a man! You are magnanimous to forgive him!"

"Well, he _is_ a scoundrel and a pirate!" She huffed even as she tidily cleaned the tea whisk. "I guess that's...part of it, though, to be honest. I don't know if I'd get...fired up, as you'd say, quite the same way if he wasn't."

He nodded, shedding water from the tufts of his hair. "Indeed! Though Sir Masamune is an honorable lord at heart, his informality and eccentricities often stoke the flames within my own soul! So it must be with you and the Sea Devil! Have you yet defeated him in combat?"

She nodded. "Twice!"

His eyes widened. "Truly you are skilled in battle, Honored Oracle! Were I not pressed for time, I would humbly ask to test my skills against yours in friendship!"

Oh, she was never going to get out of dueling everybody now that she'd started, was she? But it was actually kind of fun. She smiled. "Of course! But I don't want to keep you from your race."

"My humble thanks!" He seemed to be considering something for a moment. "If I may ask, when you defeated him, what burned within your heart?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking back, and felt her lips quirk down--goodness, not very ladylike thoughts.

"...pride," she answered after a long moment. "The first time, I was setting things right after he'd been a horrid rogue, and the second time, I was just--excited, we were just dueling for fun then. But it...felt good."

"Pride in your victories is your right as a warrior! And the Sea Devil is no trifling foe!" He paused, considering again. "Did he seem lesser, to you, when he lay at your mercy?"

She felt her brow furrow. "No...maybe a little dumb, but I always think he's a little dumb."

He nodded, enthusiastic. "Then truly, there is promise between you! When any two struggle, one must win, but between rivals, defeat carries no shame, for that is the mercy a warrior offers to one with whom he wishes to clash with time upon time! Let your heart burn strong! If the days comes when he defeats you, falter and doubt yourself not, for if he is truly your rival, he will honor you even in your darkest moments of weakness and loss!"

She quavered a little as she considered that-- _oh, our Little Crane is a sore loser_ , Naomasa would always say. "Why?"

"Because for each such clash, both victor and defeated grow stronger! The constant struggle between rivals gives power to them both! I dare say the God of War and Oyakata-sama himself would both be lesser men if not for the constant challenge they offer each other! And it is in battle with Sir Masamune that my soul burns the very brightest, as bright as when I fight for my very life! In those moments, I have learned the depths of my own power, my body been stirred to move like a divine wind, I have honed techniques that I could not even dream of during combat with other foes!"

That...made a lot of sense. She'd never fought quite like she had during that duel--she was excited just thinking about it. "So it really is all about striving against each other and making each other better, not about trying to kill each other?"

Yukimura shook his head. "A thousand pardons for my correction, Honored Oracle, but we are men of battle, and such a fate stands in our shadows! Should the tides of war lead us to a battle to the death, I would join it with joy in my heart and be at peace with victory or defeat, for I can think of no kinder fate than to die at his hands and know that he continues in the wake of my demise! And no higher honor than to be the one who defeated him, and know he fought me with all his strength and fell with joy! Even though..." For a moment, his voice was almost that of a normal man. "Even though I would mourn his loss sorely, and would rather strive for a day when war will drive no man to such ends, and would lay down my life for that goal even should I be far from his side. But I would do him a great disservice, to fear that battle, or hold back a single ounce of my strength if it was joined!"

She looked down at her own bowl of tea for a moment, wrapped her hands around it. That, she supposed, was where she was different. She'd been raised to fight, of course, but not to walk between life and death with no care as samurai do--and, too, to honor all life. The light in her arrows stunned her foes, the ice poured into them from her battle aura froze them; she could kill in an instant with mundane arrows, she knew, her aim was fine enough for throat or eye, but she never had. Not even a rank and file stranger, never mind a man who'd spoken with her as a friend even after his defeat. Could she...?

"But," Yukimura added a little hesitantly, as if sensing her worry. "Even knowing such a fatal end could befall us, it is still a joy and honor in my life to have him as my rival, one beyond the telling, and worth all sorrow."

Such a day didn't _have_ to come for them, she realized. She wasn't pledged to war and conquest--she skirted on the edge of it and went as she willed. Neither of them was beholden to a warlord as Yukimura was. If the Sea Devil ever took it upon himself to invade and pillage Iyo in earnest, she would defend her lands to the death--yet he never had, even as he conquered the rest of Shikoku. She watched her tea swirl, thought of what he'd said to her on the forecastle in the early dawn--and blinked back up at Yukimura after a moment.

"You two must trust each other so much."

He sat with his mouth a little open, blinking, like she'd just said something very strange.

"To not seek out a fatal battle, but simply accept it when it comes, I mean."

He bowed his head. "Truly, your insight is impressive, Honored Oracle! Oyakata-sama once told me, as a riddle, that he trusted the God of War as much as his own closest subordinates, and that my understanding of that would deepen my understanding of my own rivalry! And now you, too, have come to that understanding!" He set his bowl before him for a moment for a full bow. "I wish you all joy in your rivalry, Honored Oracle!"

* * *

Once Yukimura was mostly dried out, she saw him off in a borrowed boat with her best wishes, cow and all, steaming gently with excitement as he waved to her--he'd gotten very fired up with all that talk of rivalry. And she realized far too late that she should've asked him if he'd seen the Sea Devil! It had--been _weeks_ after all, like almost a whole two or three of them. And she'd gotten sort of fired up too.

A few days later, she caught Mr. Date on his way back up from Kyushu by firing the biggest heart arrow she could make across his path in the sky, and he landed in a thunder of hooves, shaking a pink haze from his eye.

"Shit, that is the strangest feeling--ah, young lady Oracle." He didn't dismount, just patted the neck and handlebars of his snorting horse, who seemed shaken up by the sudden landing. "I'm in the middle of my own little race, our friend the Sea Devil inspired me. I don't have much time. What's up?"

She nodded, skipping closer. "I heard from Mr. Sanada--I hope you're having fun! I was just wondering if you'd seen him, actually, while you were up there? The Sea Devil, I mean?"

He sheathed the six swords in one easy motion and folded his arms, cool and settled even on horseback on a rolling deck. "Not on my way north. He was in caught up a naval battle on the far shores of Shikoku when I was heading south to Satsuma, near Cape Ashizuri. I didn't get a very good look but he seemed to be faring well enough."

She had her hand over her mouth before she realized it. "A naval battle? With who?"

His voice was easy, casual, but his gaze was very keen. "They flew no colors. Not a civilian ship for the pirating, though, she was fighting back."

"That's odd..." She felt her brow furrowing. "It's _certainly_ not Kono's forces, and everything's been quiet in Chugoku these days..." Since Mr. Mori--was killed. She certainly knew why now. Who else even had enough of a navy to take on the Sea Devil? The Beast, maybe? But that strange boy with the foreign faith was closer, she thought...oh, she was rubbish at this sort of thing, she'd have to ask Naomasa...

"Really? I figured it was some scheme of Mori's."

She shook her head. "It...couldn't be. He's..."

Masamune tilted his head a little. "What, those crazy rumors about him being dead are true?"

"Yes. Motochika told me--that he'd killed him."

He seemed--entirely unsurprised, really. "Taking the party all the way, huh? Well, about damn time. My friend deserves a lot better than _that_ for a rival."

She opened her mouth, closed it, thought back on that whole conversation with Yukimura--all their sad talk of killing had never touched on that. Oh, she hoped it didn't end like that, they were both such kind men. "So it's...fair of him to try to kill _me_ if I'm not good enough?"

He gave a bark of laughter. "Oh, that depends upon what you mean by _good_. He wasted half his life burning up for a cold bastard who didn't give him the time of day, much less a decent party. Somehow I doubt you'll give him that kind of trouble."

She blinked at him, trying to make sense of that--gods, just when she thought she understood this rivalry thing, it got stranger--

\--and then she jumped as a distant bellow echoed across the ocean, and what looked like a flaming star shot across the sky.

" _Shit!_ " Masamune dug his heels into his horse's sides, eye going wide with a wicked grin, and it whinnied and turned in a circle. "Well, I'll be, he's finally gotten the hang of it after all--burning soul!" He drew his swords, blue lightning crackling between the blades. "You want the Sea Devil, look on the far shores of Shikoku and make sure to enjoy yourself. I've got a party to get back to."

"Ah, sure--" She bowed. "My thanks! Good luck!"

"Put your guns on! Magnum Boost!" he bellowed in his strange dragon language, as if in answer to Yukimura's roar to the sky, and she realized about a second later that she _really_ should have ducked as he kicked his horse to a gallop right over the rail of her ship, spun his swords in a storm of clouds and thunder, and jetted up into the open sky.

Everything was crackling, jolts she felt to her _bones_. She slowly peeled her hand off her side and delicately poked the hair hovering straight on end over her head.

"...well at least I have a better way of getting around than _that._ " She realized something _else_ , far too late, squeaked and clapped her hands over her mouth. " _And_ I forgot to ask if he'd seen my Twilight Ninja!"

"Little Crane?" It was Naomasa, coming up on deck from his usual morning rounds. "Was that the One-Eyed Dragon?"

"Mm-hm." She tried to smooth her hair down. It crackled right back up. She pouted. "Did you hear what he was saying?"

He shook his head. "Is something troubling you?"

She looked to the horizon for a moment--not across the Seto Sea, not to the distant and empty red gates of Itsukushima, but to Shikoku behind them, as if she could see right through the mountains. Maybe she _could_ if she tried hard enough. But much better to see it with her eyes. Her business at the shrine was finished for now, she could afford to travel again, and--she was curious. Far too curious. Now that she'd had a taste of the world, she couldn't get enough, no matter how much trouble and pain it brought.

"Tell our shipmates we're setting sail!"


	5. In Which a Cat and a Spider Lead the Way Into the Depths

The sea down the coast of Iyo was smooth sailing, warm and sunny, and there were days when Tsuruhime could barely pry herself off the prow of her ship. She was going to sail off to adventure--real, proper adventure, chasing her rival through the rocky shores of his stronghold if she had to! No wars this time, no people trying to trick her. Well. Unless those unmarked ships Mr. Date had talked about turned out to be something awful. But he'd said they weren't giving Motochika much trouble, so it would probably be all right.

Naomasa had stroked his chin for a few long moments after she passed on what Mr. Date had told her, and he hadn't been able to figure it out either. It would be worth looking into, he had said. And she should consult with the gods.

It was a strange consultation. Blurry, far more so than when she'd looked upon turbulence and wars in the past. The Beast slumbered, sprawled on the Badger. The Thunder King wearily sailed towards the horizon; the little golden rat on his shoulder stirred, curled around itself, ran in circles that made no sense. The Sea Devil ran still, but howled less, clawed at some glimmer on the waves with the Dark King chewing on his ogre mane. And shadows stirred at the corner of her vision, threads and traces like the edges of a net that she could not grasp, no matter how she tried.

It was Uncle Michinao who sat with her as she came out of it, and listened with a slow, grave nod. "Well, Little Crane...remember what happened when you tried to see your own future, back when you were little?"

She frowned, settled her bow across her lap and rubbed her head. "And I saw nothing...yes?"

"I'd wondered if this would happen, when you became more involved in the world." Michinao sighed and offered her a warm, apologetic smile. "If you can't see your own future, then you can't see the places where it is entangled with others either."

She took a deep, shaky breath. Just looked off into space for a moment, closed her eyes. She'd never really minded before, that she couldn't see her future--it was entirely determined anyway. To stay in the shrine, guide others, defend her home, be the best priestess she could, be happy. And it wasn't like she needed guidance from the gods on high to make decisions for herself--she wasn't that afraid! But with decisions about her friends, her shipmates, all of Iyo...all right, maybe it was a little scary, to know she didn't have much guidance for that.

"...no wonder I've never had a vision of my Twilight Ninja."

Michinao laughed his creaky, crinkle-faced laugh. "That's our Little Crane, always finding the bright side of things. That means your future must be very closely tied to his!"

"Mm-hm! ☆" She laughed brightly, and took a moment to carefully unstring her bow and coil the string, just so. "But I guess that also means I'm going to be pretty tied up in whatever's going on with the Sea Devil and those unmarked ships...I couldn't really see anything about them at all. Just that they're shadowy and sneaky."

"I'll speak with Naomasa-kun about scouts, then." For a moment, he was serious, but the twinkle didn't stay out of his eye for long. "I'd say this means you're heading in the right direction."

She picked her chin up. Oh, Uncle Michinao always knew how to cheer her up. Even when she was venturing out into something new and frightening--he'd encouraged her when she'd ventured out to punish the warlords fighting in Kyushu, when she'd committed to Ieyasu's forces at Sekigahara, and now when she sailed amongst strange tendrils of shadows and spiderwebs with no more guidance than that from the gods. But she was strong, and she certainly wasn't alone, she could handle it. "Yes! I really am!"

* * *

She had no more visions of what was to come. Nor did her scouts or the lookouts on her ships see much of anything, even as they crossed into Chosokabe territory--and the moment they rounded the last island of Iyo, Tsuruhime was on the prow with her heart pounding, like the ogre might rear up any moment. Yet he didn't. A day passed. Two, three. No ships anywhere close, only distant ones flying Otomo colors, far across the Hyuga-nada Sea towards Kyushu, running cargo.

As they neared Cape Ashizuri, Tsuruhime dreamed. Not in the dawn light, not a vision touched by the gods, but a mere specter in the depths of night. Blurry, dark. A narrow hallway, she could reach out and drag her fingertips down the walls on both sides--were they wood, were they stone, she couldn't tell. A faint wind. Everything was gray.

She was following a trail of feathers. Black. One by one. Like dream nonsense, she didn't even know what they might be at first. They drifted down slow and soft, clicked when they landed. A corner turned, and she realized she was deep in the hold of her own ship, fingertips tracing the red bands painted on the walls. Something yowled, and she jumped. But the feathers kept falling. She ran after them, smooth wooden floor blurring under her bare feet; they led to a door, one of the cargo rooms, where she used to go exploring when she was little to climb on all the crates...

Was he there? Her Twilight Ninja?

The clicking came in earnest--

She blurred awake when fabric hit her in the face--her own winter kimono, the one she slept under, she must have been tossing and turning. Groaned, felt unspeakably blurry, rolled over to go back to sleep.

Yet something was still clicking. A yowl and hiss. And she knew that insistent yowl--the eldest of her ship cats, a venerable bird-thin gray lady who'd been her kitten the year she learned how to talk. "Tama-chan?" she mumbled, shoving aside thick quilted sleeves and rolling over. She must have gotten into something, she was still such a fierce hunter. Tsuruhime rubbed her face, bleary, found the lamp by memory and fumbled to light it. Oh, she hoped Tama-chan hadn't upended her quiver again, that was always such a mess--

It was Tama-chan, certainly. Hissing and jumping on something larger than a rat, almost her own size, a wooden spider with a tiny toy longboat on its back. And a scroll in the longboat.

For a moment, she almost thought she was still dreaming. Tama-chan froze, looked up at her with glowing green eyes in the lamplight, pointed a paw at the thing, and loudly gave complaint.

"Oh no you don't, Sea Devil!" Tsuruhime pounced. Without thinking. Which nearly sent the lit lamp topping onto the deck and her sleeping yukata flapping open. Cat, spider, and crane all took a roll, with her bells jingling. Tsuruhime saved the lamp with a gasp, managed to grab one of the spider's little kicking legs with the other--

"Ow!" Of _course_ it had little metal teeth! She shook her smarting hand and made another grab, right for the scroll this time; it dodged, wooden feet clicking on the floor. "Tama-chan, are you all right, did the mean thing bite you?"

"Maah," was what Tama-chan had to say to that, but she _looked_ all right at least.

And the spider took the opportunity to dash for the door. It was already a forearm's width open, enough to get in, and Tsuruhime planted the lamp on the deck and pounced after it, heedless of nippy teeth, but it darted out of her hands and--

\--bounced off of thin air.

Tsuruhime felt her mouth drop open. She was _really_ not awake enough for this.

The spider ran again, bounced again; ran again, bounced again. Tama-chan pounced after it. Tsuruhime reeled on her butt for a moment. Then grabbed a sash to close her yukata more securely, made sure the red ribbons tying her bells to wrists and ankles were all in place, picked up the lamp, and stood, peering at the open slice of door even as a very confused spider kept running over her toes.

" _You_ are as rude as your captain," she muttered, and tried to put a hand through. She couldn't see anything, not at first, but she could feel it--a web of hair-fine threads. Holding the lamp closer, she could just barely see the glint of them against the pitch-black corridor beyond. "Since when did his spiders spin webs...wait, but that doesn't make any sense, it seems as confused as I am..."

The spider started chewing on the threads in earnest, not that it seemed to do much good. Tsuruhime saw her chance, took a deep slow breath, and grabbed as fast as she could, snatching the scroll off its back and tucking it into her sash. The silly thing shuddered and started turning circles in confusion.

"Gotcha!" Smug, she turned back to the door. But she couldn't stay smug for long, not when she realized that even a single thread of the stuff didn't tear easy. It stretched, bit deep into her finger; she thought it might almost draw blood.

"What on earth..."

It was splayed over the door, she didn't dare burn it. At least Tama-chan _hadn't_ upended her quiver. She pulled out an arrow, started picking off one thread at a time with the point--even a slash across the web didn't do much. Who could even have done this? Why would they lock her in her room in the middle of the night? The spider had just been ridiculous, but this...the more she wondered, the more her heart started to pound. Were the rest of her shipmates locked in too? She plucked at threads frantically, finally widened enough of a hole to squeeze through with only a few scrapes. Cat and spider both followed her, one a loyal lamp-eyed shadow at her side, and the other doggedly skittering about her feet in hopes of getting the scroll.

The hallway was black, silent, and held no answers.She held the lamp high, skittered down to find the door to the big room the other mikos slept in--but there was no web there, just on hers. She turned, went for the ladders at the end of the hall, that led both up to the men's deck and down to the hold--she had to see if Naomasa and Uncle Michinao were locked in, she had to wake them up--

The shadows moved. One swift blur, a flicker of a black-clad figure in the lamplight--and the scroll was gone from her sash.

She _squeaked_. "A-a ninja?" Felt her tummy flip-flop, her face heat, all the breath leave her in a rush. Was it him, here, on her ship, after all this time? But here she was in her sleeping yukata all improper! But still, she had to find him!

The spider scuttled right over the edge and dropped down into the inky depths of the hold.

Tsuruhime cupped one hand around the flame of her lamp and jumped after, not even hesitating. Was that why she'd been dreaming of those black feathers, was he really here? She landed lightly on the lower deck, ran down the hallway with the lamp held high.

The spider skidded to a halt where the hallway split off and started turning circles. She nearly tripped over it, all but ignoring it, but for a moment she, too, froze. One way to the deep sanctuary, the hidden room of the shrine ship where the sacred bows rested, where none but her and Uncle Michinao and a few of the elder priests would ever go. Especially now that somebody was living there. The other to the perfectly mundane storage holds...

The one she'd dreamt of.

She took off at nearly a run, heedless of her yukata fluttering open along one leg and her bells banging against her ankles, heart pounding. Not that it was that far, really--it was a large ship, but still a ship. She skidded to a halt and reached to open the door--and her hand fetched up on another spiderweb.

What now? _Why_? At least she'd thought to tuck the arrow into her sash too. She set the lamp down and tugged at the web frantically, yanking out strands to cut, as much by feel as by the tiny flickering flame. She knew ninjas had all sorts of strange tools--maybe these webs were one of them? But why would he set them like this? Was he testing her? She'd do her best, she'd do anything to prove herself to him. Footsteps pounded on the deck above her head, somebody's voice in the distance, but she barely even noticed. Maybe some of the men weren't webbed in, that was probably good.

She clawed enough free to open the door, scooped up the lamp, and squeezed inside to raise it and look around.

No movement. No sign of anybody there. The bay was half empty, crates shoved along the walls to leave a fair bit of it open, and in a pile in the middle--

She felt like her stomach turned over and dropped to her toes.

Dynamite. A mass of it, huge, probably enough to blow up the whole ship. Clustered end-up, she couldn't even see the fuses, and bound together with more of those webs.

She stood there for what felt like an age, rooted to the spot, mouth hanging open and heart pounding so fast she felt dizzy. Was she really awake? Was this all some awful dream?

Those heavy footsteps had landed on the lower deck now, coming down the hall. Somebody must be awake and free! She jolted into motion, squeezed back through the door, yelling for help. "Uncle Naomasa, Uncle Michinao, anyone--come this way, hurry, you have to--"

She ran into a wall. A warm wall. Shrieked and looked up, and Motochika looked back down at her in the lamplight in stormy-faced bewilderment, anchor over one shoulder with a little ball of flame burning in its prongs. The spider hopped between his feet.

"Tsuruhime, what in the six hells is going on?"

"You can't be here it's not safe!" she blurted, before she could even put together an answer, before she even peeled herself off his chest.

"Aside from the fact that you've got some enemy ninja messing around on your ship? Sure, I got that much--"

"It's more than messing around! There--there's a bomb!"

Leather creaked as he tightened his grip on his anchor. "What the _fuck_? Show me!"

She couldn't even spare a word to correct his filth. Just grabbed one of his dangling sleeves and pulled him back towards the cargo hold. The web caught him halfway through--he was a lot bigger than her--and he cursed, put the flame in his anchor out and brought it into play as she frantically cut more strands. He was even strong enough to straight-up tear a thread or two at a time, and she didn't even have time to be envious. They both tumbled into the hold, and she held the lamp high for him and, entirely unnecessarily, yelped "There!"

She'd never heard somebody insult five generations of a bomb's ancestry before.

"Stand back, keep the lamp away from it, who would want to kill you," he added when he was done, already crouching to look about the base of it.

"Mr. Mori did, but...well." She fumbled. "Mr. Otani, m-maybe...? I never saw him again after we first met--"

"He's dead too." His voice was half-swallowed by the mass of dynamite between them, and very flat. She swallowed hard and clutched her arrow so tight she felt her nails digging into her palm.

"Mr. Kuroda...? That was months ago though..."

"If he's killing anybody any time soon, I'm a trout," Motochika growled. "Has the Beast got it out for you for some reason? I know your first campaign was in Satsuma."

_How_ did he know? "I...I don't think so? He was very cheerful about it all."

"Haah, that's him, all right. It's true, this doesn't seem like--"

He trailed off. A rustling of paper. Silence.

"...what is it?"

"It can't be," he muttered. Stood with a dark and terrible look on his face and something crumpled in his fist, a scrap of paper, maybe green, printed with dots and lines that she couldn't make out.

And then his eye went wide. " _Duck_!"

She squeaked. Ducked. Wind rushed over her head.

A ninja dropped from the ceiling, a tiny agile slip of a man, barely taller than her. All in black, nothing more than a slice of his face and his eyes visible, utterly silent in the darkness. A flash of a white scroll tucked into his sleeve.

It--wasn't him. Not her Twilight Ninja. Somebody new and strange and apparently--trying to kill her. _And_ all her shipmates. That, _that_ she could never forgive. Gods, why hadn't she brought her bow?

Motochika rounded the stack of dynamite with two long strides, went straight for the ninja with a hefty kick to his gut; he dodged, flipped soundless up to cling to the wall for a moment, and Tsuruhime saw his eyes widen over his mask.

"Talk or I'll beat it out of you! Who sent you and why?" Motochika hefted his anchor higher, dared to summon a little wisp of flame for more light. The ninja leapt, crouched blocking the door, pulled out weapons with an easy flick of his wrists--and twin sickles glimmered in the firelight.

Familiar twin sickles.

Tsuruhime gasped. "Takakage-kun--? What-- _why_?"

"Who," Motochika growled.

"Kobayakawa Takakage," he bit out, and tossed one sickle in the air to yank down his mask before catching it. "A third son fostered to the Kobayakawa clan, as a mole." And then he raised both his sickles, crossed--and the half-moon blades formed a ring of glimmering metal. "Sea Devil of the West, my mission is to avenge the death of my father, Mori Motonari!"


	6. In Which the Bitter Seed of the Sun Sows his Vengeance

_"My mission is to avenge the death of my father, Mori Motonari!"_

Tsuruhime staggered back a step, clutched the flickering lamp, heard herself gasp. Mr. Mori'd had sons? She'd had no idea--he'd looked young for his age, she supposed. Wondered vaguely, absurdly, who his wife was. Widow. _Father, father, Takakage was planted in thin soil and did not grow._ Now that she knew, it seemed obvious. The smooth lines of his face, narrow eyes under short, straight brown hair that stuck out crumpled from his ninja hood.

No wonder he'd sought council on a new undertaking. On a challenge he had to face. The Sea Devil was no trifling foe. But this would bring him no water, no love, nothing to grow by.

"Six hells and a thousand demons," Motochika growled behind her, low and grim, after a terrible silence. "You really going to go through with this, kid?"

"Do I look like I'm playing around?" Takakage's sickles flashed again, breaking the ring that echoed his father's blade, as he dropped back into his fighting stance. "With _this_ much dynamite?"

The chain rattled as Motochika brought his anchor up to bear. Tsuruhime didn't dare take her eyes off Takakage, didn't dare turn her back on him--not that she could do much, what _could_ she even do? Oh, she could claw her hair out for not bringing her _bow_! Where was her Twilight Ninja, where was he?

"I killed your father in revenge." Motochika's voice was rising, hot with rage. "Damned well deserved revenge--that's the hard truth, kin or no. But you _are_ kin, so you got the right to go after me. _Me_! Not a ship full of sleeping priests! Where the hell did you hide the fuses, you bastard? You're not murdering innocents in my seas!"

" _Your_ seas," Tsuruhime yelped, faintly. Clutched her sole arrow in her other hand, maybe if he wasn't paying attention she could stab him with it--but gods, he was just a boy! Why was he doing this when he had a whole life to live? Ogre or no, she couldn't let Motochika die, never mind all her shipmates, but she couldn't let him die either, it wouldn't be _fair_ \--

Motochika bulled past her with a devil's cry, flame kindling in the prongs of his anchor, and the first swipe of it covered almost half the room. Takakage threw himself sideways, anchor skidding off sickles with a spray of sparks, and Tsuruhime would almost guess he was _scared_ , vengeful anger or no--but then he laughed, bright and fragile. "Careful playing with fire in here, Sea Devil! I'd ask if you want to take it outside, but I really can't--" He dodged again, a quick hiss of breath as he left the deck with ninja grace, flung a sickle whirling at Motochika; he was a blur in the dark, Motochika blocked by the skin of his teeth, and Tsuruhime thought she saw his hand going to his belt for a moment as he spun in midair and kicked off the wall. "Can't let you leave this room right now, can I?"

She couldn't even tell that he'd thrown something. Not until it exploded in a tangle of silvery threads.

"Motochika--!"

There was no time to warn him. Wide open from blocking the feint. The net caught him full on, and Takakage vaulted across the room with a few anchoring strands trailing from his fist, jerked Motochika to his knees with sheer momentum, and snapped the sticky edges down and closed. Right around the stack of dynamite.

The anchor clattered to the deck, flame extinguished.

Motochika _roared_ , big hands clenching into fists in the net. Braced his legs and heaved, heaved until muscles stood out like cords in his neck, but he had so little leverage, he could barely gain an inch and the net was unyielding. Takakage dropped down to sweep up his other sickle and advanced on him with bare steel--

Tsuruhime didn't even think. Just flung herself between them and spread her arms wide. At least Takakage was her size. He hissed, froze for an instant, sickle a hand's breadth from her throat.

"Please, Takakage-kun--you shouldn't have to do this! I _know_ this isn't your true future, I saw your soul when you came to me for that reading--"

"What?" he sneered. "That _light_? I guess you never read my father's fortune. It hid everything from you." His laugh was brittle, brittle as dry branches. "So I have Nichirin's blessing after all, I guess he'd finally be a tiny bit proud of me." He gritted his teeth, pointed his other sickle at Motochika. "If he wasn't _dead_!"

"Stay out of this, Oracle," Motochika growled behind her, and she ignored him. Dummy! How could she, when she didn't want them to die?

"I'm here to kill her too, you know," Takakage snarled.

" _What_?" Tsuruhime squawked. Well he--he had set the bomb, hadn't he--but _still_!

"She's your rival, she's important to you."

"Like _hell_ you are!" Motochika spat and shook with anger. "You've got every right to this fight, I'd be a hypocrite to say otherwise, given why I killed him. Just like I've got every right to fight back with all I've got, 'cause I got little brothers to look after. But she's innocent in this, and so's her crew!"

"Yeah, what're you going to do about it? That thing'll shred you like rice paper when it goes up--"

" _Stop!!_ "

Takakage lurched back an inch from her shriek, snarled and clutched his sickles tighter. " _You_ don't have the right, Oracle! You've never suffered in your life, never lost family, you don't know what it's like!"

"How _dare_ you!" Her ears rang, she was so angry and scared all at once. "All of them, Takakage-kun! Every single one of the Ohori clan, years ago! I'm the only one left!"

His eyes widened. He backed off another step, sucking air.

"Tsuruhime," Motochika muttered behind her.

"So don't you dare say that I don't know what it's like!" Her eyes felt prickly, hot. "I _do_! And I don't even know the words for how bad it felt! But I lived! I kept living! And this--this won't be living, Takakage-kun! You won't sprout if you go down this path, you'll only wither more, and you don't deserve that!"

"Tsuruhime, I can take care of myself." Motochika's voice was so low she almost didn't hear him for a moment. Took a moment more to register it, as Takakage froze, stunned. "You don't need to stop this for my sake."

"You're _tied to a bomb you dummy_!" She stomped, hard, regretted it as her bare foot smarted. "Besides, it's not just for your sake, it's for _yours_." She waved the arrow at Takakage--who looked paler in the tiny light of her lamp, even as anger sparked in his eyes.

"I don't need your _pity_!" he snapped, and moved so fast he flickered like a black blur--

\--his foot hit her shoulder, hard. She shrieked, knocked back, arm spasming and lamp falling from her nerveless fingers. The crash when it hit the deck seemed terribly loud. She landed a moment later, rough and graceless, tumbled down with a few more blurring kicks to her ribs and legs.

For a moment, the world rang. All she could do was claw her fingernails into the deck and watch the oil seep out from the broken lamp, hot blue flames lighting across its surface. And wait for a sickle to her throat.

It didn't come.

Takakage left her crumpled, stunned and winded. Stalked to loom over Motochika, half-moon blade kissing the side of his face as he growled and strained at the net.

"You really serious about this?" Motochika muttered.

"I want to see you scared, Sea Devil." Takakage's voice was low, thin, angry. "I heard Dad was, when you killed him. Probably the only time he ever was in his life."

"Good luck with that, brat." Motochika drew a deep, ragged breath, stilling in his bonds. "After the fear _he_ showed me, a little pain or death is nothing."

The little fire on the deck burned brighter. More of the oil catching. Gods, gods, they were all going to die, she didn't even need to see her future to know it in her gut. Wildfire and fuses both alight, they were going to burn until the dynamite went and everything would end, they would only last a minute or two unless she got Takakage out the door and barred it. Somehow. Somehow--

Her only chance to save her friends.

Tsuruhime shook her jolted limbs, clambered to her knees, crawled. Crawled to the anchor. Got her feet under her and took a deep, deep breath.

She'd trained with the naginata, she'd certainly handled weapons heavier than a bow, but this--she couldn't possibly have been ready for this. The anchor was _huge_. Bigger than her, she could barely even get a grip round the shaft, and she couldn't get the head of it off the deck without her shoulders feeling like they were about to tear open. The dangling chain banged bruising against her legs, and Takakage was halfway to turning before Motochika bellowed a curse so foul that he blinked back at him for a moment, and that was all the moment she had.

She dug her bare heel into the deck, and prayed that utter desperate terror would give her strength, and charged. Felt a battle roar torn out of her throat with the sheer effort of dragging it forward, saw Takakage's eyes widen--and then the weight of the anchor was carrying them both, the butt slamming into Takakage's hip, driving him backwards, tumbling through the door with a yell of pain. Then it caught on the doorframe, and she stumbled into it, wheezed for air as her muscles ached.

"Shit," Takakage yelped, barely visible in the darkness of the hall beyond. Scrabbling as he got his feet under him. In a moment, he'd be trying to get back in--Tsuruhime's feet found a spearwoman's stance, fumbling on instinct, and she grabbed lower, dragged the anchor up to stand point-down in the deck, blocking the narrow slice of door that was free of the net. Jammed her heel on one of the flanges to drive it deeper.

"Use the chain!" Motochika's voice was ragged, clipped. "End's a hook, throw it up to the ceiling."

She threw it. Both hands, hard as she could. It caught, ran taut, like the weapon knew just what its master wanted--as any good weapon would. That much harder to knock it down, at least.

Takakage's face came clear in the faint firelight, glaring at her through the narrow gap between doorframe and anchor. She glared back, heart pounding. This couldn't even hold him that long, he could cut her away from the anchor with his sickles and squeeze back in to finish the job. Or cut through the web and break down the rest of the door. She could barely even see his face properly, he was in her shadow. Couldn't even guess what he was thinking.

He spat, sprung back, face turned into the shadows for a moment. "It's not like I _need_ to slice him open anyway. Just keep him from getting off the ship and he'll be dead enough for my taste. Have fun blowing up with him, Oracle. Those fuses won't last much longer."

And he was gone.

She gulped air, clutched the shaft of the anchor for a moment to steady herself, and couldn't stop moving. Her mind felt white, terribly clear. The lamp oil spread, flames licking the deck as it oozed into cracks. There was nothing out in the open to smother it with, the store-room was half empty, she had no idea what was in the boxes that were left and no time to go through them. Before she could even think about getting Motochika free or stopping the bomb, she had to--put it out. Naomasa had _drilled_ her in how to deal with fires, every possible way, it was one of the worst things that could happen on any ship, and so many temple rites needed to have fires lit...

At least she had short hair. She took one deep breath, dropped, and rolled. Barely even noticed Motochika cursing and calling her name somewhere behind her. It _burned_ , bits of broken pottery bit into her. She shrieked, gritted her teeth, kept right on until the last bit of light died.

The room was utter, utterly dark. For a moment she just lay there, panting, stunned. Raised her hands to clutch at her yukata--at least it wasn't burned off.

"...Tsuruhime, _Tsuruhime_ , are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears. "It didn't burn me too much..."

The arrow, where had the arrow fallen? She rolled to her knees and pawed around on the deck, blind as a bat. Found his knee first, wouldn't even have known what it was if he hadn't yelped with surprise. "What are you _doing--_ "

"My arrowheads can cut through his net things, I had one with me, I'm going to get you out, I promise, I'm going to get you out and then I'm going to save my shipmates and--and--"

She ran out of words. Could only hear his breathing, rasping in the dark. Nearly shrieked when her hand brushed something warm and furry, was it a rat, she hated rats--

" _Mraaah_."

Tama-chan dropped the arrow into her hand.

For a moment, Tsuruhime almost sobbed in relief. 

"Was that a cat," Motochika asked from somewhere above her.

"My _best_ cat. Good Tama-chan, good Tama-chan..."

Tama-chan butted her thin body against her as she groped for Motochika's knee again and sat up in front of him. Or at least something like in front of him. She hoped. But Tama-chan was there, and the world wasn't entirely foreign and confusing and frightening anymore, and she was going to fix this.

"You named your cat Tama-chan," he muttered, sounding incredulous.

"I was _five_. And hush, I'm rescuing you, be polite!" Gods, this was ridiculous, she was almost relieved he was being rude. At least _something_ made sense. It would help with the whole business where she had to grab all over his chest to tug up strands of web to cut. "Ah...sorry..."

"...for what?" She could feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed too fast, could almost feel his heart pounding.

"For--this is really quite improper--"

"I'm being rescued, I can't complain." His voice was strangely quiet all of a sudden.

Silence, for a long, long moment. Only both of them breathing far too fast. She realized, belated, that she should free an arm first, let him help. Even his wrist felt huge in the dark.

"I didn't know," he said quietly as they both pried an arm free. "About your family. I'm sorry."

She willed her hands from shaking with all she had. She'd never had this many feelings at once during a fight, not even when Mr. Mori had tricked her. "It's not like you could have. I was little."

"Who...?"

"The Ouchi clan. I don't think they're around anymore either. Everybody dies too soon, in a world like this..."

"Yeah." His hand fumbled after hers, yanking out one strand at a time; the net was started to strain to pieces.

She almost, almost asked him what Mr. Mori had done. But then she heard strands popping quickly, twang and ping, one after another as he finally had enough play to burst out with sheer strength. He lurched forward; she staggered back, toppled onto her butt as he surged free.

"You--you build stuff, do you know anything about bombs?" She flailed in the dark, found his sleeve; together, they fumbled to their feet.

"Quiet," he muttered, "quiet as you can, if he's listening he's got every reason to weasel back in here now. He's hidden the fuses, probably down a hole and we don't have time to tear the deck up, and we risk blowing it if we try to move it, so we drown the powder. Too big a bomb for a metal casing, about the only thing we've got going for us." Motochika's voice was strangely flat. She wished she could see his face, she wished none of this was happening. "We're below the waterline, we'll risk the ship if we let in seawater, and those webs are everywhere, there'll be no getting the crew to lifeboats. Where do you keep your freshwater stores?"

It took her a long, long moment to even think of the answer. "...here, a lot of them, usually. But they're gone."

"Already cleared them out. _Fuck_ \--"

" _Language_ ," she murmured, but it was absentminded as she stared into the deep darkness. _Water_...

"...you can set things on fire, right?"

"That is the last damn thing we want to do right now."

"No, I mean, if I can freeze it..."

She heard his breath catch in surprise. "What, seriously? Hell, that's so crazy it might work--can you?"

"I..."

All she had was the arrow, clutched in her hand with fine wood damp from her sweating hands. She couldn't even fire it, even if she could it didn't go off all the time--but no, the weapon barely mattered, right? The ice came from her battle aura, from _her_ , the bow and arrows just helped her focus it. She could do this. To save her shipmates--she didn't have a _choice_ , she would just have to do it, perfect the first time. Just like everything else.

"Be ready," she whispered, and raised the arrow like an offering, and prayed. In her heart, not out loud, lips moving silently, eyes closed--not that it made any difference. She heard his footsteps, groping his way to the door. Felt her battle aura rise, fed by desperate will, chilling her skin, pouring into the arrow. Rise and rise until she almost felt she had wings, until when she opened her eyes it was glowing bright enough to light the room with a wan, silver-pink gleam. Ice cracked; her fingers stung, grew numb.

She drew a deep, deep breath--shivering, she'd never raised enough ice to make herself shiver before, she normally didn't even feel it--and flung the arrow straight at the bundle of dynamite. Ice spun forth, crystalizing out of thin air as fast as lightning, forming into a great jagged block nearly as large as Motochika, and the drain of her aura pouring into it left her shaking like she'd just read fortunes all day, but it _worked_ , and she felt herself grinning to split her face.

Motochika whistled, low and proud, and yanked his anchor free of the deck in one easy motion--all the more impressive now that she'd tried to pick the thing up herself. "Stand back, this is gonna be one hell of a show."

She stood back. Fire burst from its tip as he swung it, and his own aura flared, and flame sheeted angry red and spitting over the block of ice. Steam burst in a huge boiling gout, and there was a huge crack and hiss as the ice melted, and Tama-chan hissed and jumped onto a crate as a surge of hot-and-cold water burst forth over their feet. Tsuruhime yelped and flung an arm over her face as steam singed them both pink.

The dynamite was dripping. Motochika shouldered his anchor, a small flame burning to light the way, and gingerly peeled back the paper on one of the outermost sticks to shove his finger into thoroughly wet gunpowder. Grinned and dug deeper, kicking up water to splash down in the center where it was only damp, drowning every bit.

"There," he said, rounding on her and holding up a fist. Fire flared in his anchor, a proper torch now, almost blinding. "We're good. Well, except for the part where there's still a ninja somewhere on board trying to kill us."

She blinked up at his fist, but couldn't help a huge, giddy smile. "But we still saved my shipmates. Thank you, thank you so much!"

"Haah, you did most of it. Thank _you_." He lowered his hand, as if he'd expected her to do something with it. Then raised it again. "Here, make a fist."

She tilted her head, slowly raised one small fist. "Why?"

"This!" He bumped his forearm against hers. She pouted, bumped back.

"Why?"

"It's to cheer each other for a job well done--we've earned it." Maybe that grin of his was a little giddy with relief too. He _had_ been tied to a bomb--big scary ogre pirate or no, it was probably a little frightening.

"Even if we're rivals?"

" _Especially_ if we're rivals!"


	7. In Which the Sacred Seals are Laid Open to the Night

They'd dealt with the bomb--but it's not like they had time to celebrate, after all. Tsuruhime pulled her arrow out of the sodden heap of dynamite and shook off a rain of droplets and black powder.

"Come on, let's go free my shipmates if we can, they'll be able to help too!"

Motochika caught her shoulder with one heavy hand and shook his head as she glowered up at him.

"Hell, Tsuruhime, the brat could be right outside the door. If you were armed, it'd be ladies first, but, well--"

He charged. Best as he could, squeezing through the narrow gap in the web, a few more strands pinging loose as he bulled by. By the time she slipped through after him, he was a few steps down the hall.

And a moment later, a black blur slammed foot-first into his head.

"Watch out--!"

It was too late. But apparently the Sea Devil _did_ have a very thick head. He wheeled, the play of his anchor limited in the narrow corridor, but it didn't seem to daunt him in the least. "We going to have a proper fight now, boy? Revenge served cold ain't good for anyone's belly!"

Takakage ricocheted off the wall, his whole body as fast as the whirling tip of the anchor. "Don't you dare say a word about revenge, given what you did!"

"Gods above--you two-- _don't kill each other_!"

Her shriek was lost in the battle. Right back where they'd started except for the bomb--what could she even to do stop them? Or slow them down? Motochika was in full swing, his flames lighting up the corridor, but no trace of the savage joy he'd shown when they'd fought in the past, just a thunderous glower. Not that she wouldn't be just as angry if she wasn't so worried--Takakage had tricked her, he'd tried to kill her shipmates, he'd been as mean as his father! But the vision kept giving her pause. An unsprouted seed. Even knowing that the light was false...she pelted down the corridor after them, after the furious clash of steel and flame. Motochika was gaining ground fast and furious, driving Takakage back down the hall as he dodged and feinted and caught blows glancing off his sickles, frantic; only a few quick windows to attack through Motochika's vicious flailing, but he made those count, and she could hear the Sea Devil growl with pain. Still a painfully uneven fight now that Motochika wasn't hamstrung. But Takakage glowered with determined rage, even as he was driven to the other side of the ship.

To the door of the inner sanctuary, painted red and white and strung with bells and sacred rope. The door that Takakage booted open with one swift kick, fear in his eyes now, no doubt looking for someplace to hide and regroup that wasn't webbed off. Tsuruhime sped up, even on aching and bruised legs, feeling like her stomach was going to crawl up her throat.

"Not _there--_ "

It was too late. Motochika barreled through the door. Takakage vanished into the darkness again like a wraith, she couldn't even guess where he was. She flung herself after Motochika, grabbed him by the trailing coat sleeves, shrieking. "Careful, don't break the circle, it's there to help her, she doesn't want to hurt anybody!"

He skidded to a halt with big tabi boots a bare inch from the perfect circle of white rope laid on the deck.

"Shit--what the _hell_ , Oracle--"

The room was moaning. The whole room was coming alive. Candles flickered alight one by one of their own blessed will as shadows roiled thick within the circle. Tsuruhime felt her heart turn over in her chest. And shook the bells on her wrists three times, shoved Motochika aside, and leapt over the rope.

A dozen hands caught her, gentle as anything, and darkness boiled away from her pure flesh as she stumbled through them, and soon it was only two hands, soft and warm and alive, and she dropped half-blind to her knees at Lady Oichi's side.

"...White Bird? Why...why am I awake...?"

"There's--a lot just happened--" She gulped air, gathered Oichi into her arms with her thick soft hair spilling over her. "It's going to be okay, though, I'm going to make it okay."

" _Tsuruhime_ \--why is the Demon Queen here?" Motochika growled, high-strung and nervy at the edge of the circle.

"Because she's my friend. And she wanted someplace safe and pure to sleep." Tsuruhime didn't even look up at him. Oichi's hands, the real ones, caught up bunches of her yukata, and she breathed in relief, held her closer. She hadn't been woken from her darkest, most terrifying dreams, and Tsuruhime could only hope she was free of them; she was lucid, she recognized her, she was all right.

"Little Devil?" Oichi mumbled, blinking up at him. "Is he...still...a dreadful man...?"

Tsuruhime laughed a little in spite of herself. "Not dreadful enough that I want you to punish him. It's okay."

"Oh...just playing..."

Tsuruhime rocked Oichi slightly, finally looked up at Motochika for a moment. He stared back down in naked bewilderment, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth--

Something else blurred out of the shadows.

"Motochika--!" she shrieked.

His side-step seemed like the slowest thing she'd ever had to watch. The sickle missed his throat by a hair. He kicked up the butt of the anchor, swatted Takakage aside, and he flew tumbling--and sprung off the far wall--

\--and the moment Takakage leapt, a hand as large as him snatched him bodily out of midair and smashed him down against the deck with a ragged cry and a terrible thud, one of his sickles slipping from his grasp and sliding across the floor.

"Oichi-chan, please! Don't hurt him!" Tsuruhime clutched her limp body tight, buried her face in silky hair. "He's just a boy, he's scared and he's angry because one of his family died, and--and--"

"I told you, I don't need your pity!" Takakage wheezed, kicking and struggling under the crushing weight of Oichi's hand, but his eyes were terribly wide.

"You don't...want me to...?" Oichi's real hand, small and soft, fumbled up to Tsuruhime's face, cupping her cheek, and Tsuruhime drew a breath, willing herself to be calm as anything, calm enough for both of them. The knot in the white rope was loosening, fibers tearing free as the darkness deepened. The hand holding Takakage shuddered, clawed, picked him up head over heels like a rag.

"No. Not yet, not unless we've got no other choice." And at least she wasn't unarmed anymore. Far from it, here in her inner sanctuary.

"I... _I_ don't want to..." Oichi shuddered, squeezing her eyes closed as her brows knit. "Ranmaru...Ranmaru, so little blood..."

"You don't have to," Tsuruhime breathed, earnest. "You don't ever have to hurt anyone again. I promise."

Oichi shuddered, let out a ragged sob of relief, looked up at her with pleading eyes.

"I promise," Tsuruhime whispered again, and Oichi melted, curled close against her, and Tsuruhime's heart ached for her. She'd been so busy with her shrine work, and Oichi had so very much wanted a chance to rest somewhere deeper than sleep for weeks upon weeks, healing...yet still. Being with her when she was awake would be healing too, right? "Oichi-chan, could you do me a favor, please? To help things go well so I don't have to hurt anyone?"

"A wish...you might get more than one..." She blinked, bowing her head. "I think...you shouldn't have to hurt anyone either..."

"Tsuruhime, what the hell are you doing?" Motochika muttered.

Tsuruhime ignored him, he really was being a pain right now, and smoothed a hand over Oichi's hair; she'd help her brush it later, it would help them both calm down, it tangled so easily. "Could you just keep them both from fighting for a moment? Don't hurt them, just hold them back for me? This is my ship, I want to fix this myself."

"Mm...White Bird...it's hard." Oichi drew a deep, shuddering breath, turned her face into Tsuruhime's shoulder. "To fix things."

"But not trying is harder."

"That's why...you're very bright..."

Oichi didn't say yes. Barely even moved. But her hands did, loosening their hold on Takakage, letting him down to the deck in a stunned bundle as he cursed under his breath--yet not letting him go. Another rising like a great fence around Motochika as he glowered at it, wary, muttered Tsuruhime's name like a curse.

"Thank you," Tsuruhime whispered, and kissed Oichi's forehead, very softly, like she remembered her mother doing when she was little, and gently laid her back down on her futon. Her hands swirled under her, settling her down the rest of the way, and Tsuruhime stood, carefully stepped back out of the ring, and walked to the elaborately painted screen at the back of the room, covering the shrine alcove.

"Tsuruhime," Motochika said, low and firm. "Let me go--"

She looked over at him for a moment, felt her heart pounding. But she couldn't just let it go on. Not like this. "Not yet. You _are_ misbehaving, after all."

"I am _not_ ," he grumbled.

She looked back to the alcove, bowed her head, and murmured a prayer of apology--not to him, but to the spirits within her shrine, for the rudeness of this request--and slid the screen open. Stepped under more sacred white ropes, felt the crackle of power bound in paper strips of lightning above her.

"Takakage-kun," she said, almost calm. "You've threatened my shipmates. The men who raised me, my friend Oichi-chan. And my rival, who's mine to battle, not yours." Some startled little noise from Motochika, but she couldn't pay attention to that now, she really couldn't. "I, Tsuruhime, the head priestess of this shrine, will face you now."

She could hear him swearing, low and thin. Motochika too, a murmur of awe.

"Oh," Oichi whispered, rolling in her bed of darkness to look over as the hands blocking the two men into their corners waved and slithered. "They're so pretty..."

Tsuruhime wielded, always, a catalpa bow, finely honed and attuned to her battle aura, and blessed. Sacred. Such a bow was before her now--not the one she'd learned with, for this one was enshrined, thick with divine energy, never to be touched for petty reasons.

One of twenty-nine. Half of the great treasure bows of the shrine on Omishima, kept here to link the two sanctuaries in spirit, as they had the same priestess.

"Please," she whispered, and lifted the bow gently from its cradle.

It hummed softly under her hands, glowing with a faint inner light; it felt light as a feather, swift and strong as a sacred wind. As she lifted it and strung it, the other twenty-eight floated off their stands and bent. As she turned, they turned. As she raised her single, scratched, soaked and spiderweb-smeared arrow to the string, they bloomed with arrows of light.

They were spirits of protection, after all. All of them. And now, now they were needed.

"Let Takakage-kun go now, Oichi-chan, if you don't mind? So he can fight me if he wants to."

"Oh," Oichi murmured, with a very, very faint smile. "Yes...little sun-shadow...see her light..."

The hand fencing Takakage in lowered. Disappeared. He stood tense as a cornered cat, breath coming fast and shallow as he looked up at twenty-nine sacred bows trained on him, clutching his remaining sickle.

"Isn't much of a fight," he muttered, pale.

"You attacked my shipmates and my shrine," Tsuruhime said, holding her head high. "This is the power that protects them. Them _and_ the Sea Devil. So this is the fight you picked. But is this worth your _life_? Is it really?"

She was bluffing. It made her heart pound and her blood run cold, she felt almost sick, both to lie like this and to threaten his life, and she couldn't dare show it. She'd stun him, if he forced the fight. Put him off in a lifeboat with enough food and water to make land. But maybe, just maybe, he'd listen.

"I'd be surprised," Motochika said, low and firm behind the great black hand that still blocked him in. "Surprised as hell, if your father gave a damn about you. He never did about anyone. Sounds harsh, I know, but it's true."

"Shut _up_ ," Takakage snapped, digging a heel into the deck. But he didn't deny it. Planted in thin soil.

"Was he...worth your life?" Tsuruhime asked, almost gently, still as deep water with her arrow nocked.

Takakage fumbled for a moment. Looked almost like he'd crack, almost like he was scared of something entirely, entirely different than the twenty-nine arrows facing him down--then clenched his jaw. "He _gave_ me life! If nothing else!"

"Then live it!"

"I--"

"Go and live it! Never harm anyone on this ship again, or these arrows will find you, but beyond that, live!"

He dropped the sickle. His face crumpled. " _Fuck_ ," he croaked, and turned, and fled.

 

Tsuruhime still couldn't really stop and let herself think about anything. First she had to settle the bows back on their stands and make sure Motochika and Oichi weren't hurt--only a few bruises and gashes for him, which he shrugged off with easy bravado. Then--

"C'mon, let's get your men out. And make sure the brat isn't lurking somewhere, he's a stubborn one."

"I...don't think he is. But all right." She shook herself, drew a deep breath, and really, properly looked up at Motochika for a moment. Gods, any other time she would've been hounding him off her ship, but she hadn't even questioned fighting at his side. Maybe that was another odd rival thing. She hardly minded this one--fighting at people's sides was even nicer than the fighting each other for fun thing, as far as she was concerned. "You...why? Are you helping, I mean?"

_And_ she sounded like an idiot, ugh. The crackling clear light of the crucial moment was fading, fast leaving her overwhelmed and blurry. He turned his head, leaving her on his blind side, mouth twisting.

"Because he wouldn't have picked on you if it wasn't for me. This is my doing. And you saved me along with your own just now. Least I could do is help clean up."

Why was he being _nice_ again? Why had he been nice all this time, to her, when he was--

"I can't _believe_ you were going to kill him!" she blurted.

He jolted, went very very still.

"I wasn't...I didn't want to," he mumbled. Dragged a deep breath of his own, and went on, quiet. "If he hadn't been after you and your men too, I'd've knocked him out and dropped him off not too far from a friendly village. Even with that, hell, I don't know. Still floor him and stick him in a net first and figure out something, I've learned my lesson about being quick to the kill, and even if I hadn't, he's a _kid_." He scratched the back of his head. "If it wasn't so damn personal, I'd stick him in my pocket along with Mitsunari, but guy's got a right to hate me."

Tsuruhime squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, heart clenching with feelings she couldn't even name. "No--no--nobody should be like that with anybody--!"

"Sometimes it's the only damn thing you can _do_ , Tsuruhime. The only justice in this world is what we make ourselves--"

"That wasn't justice!" Her voice nearly broke. Oh, what did she care if she sounded naive? "Punishing people is one thing, but--my shipmates, trying to hurt you just for fun--!"

"Yeah," Motochika said hoarsely. "I know. Look..."

She balled her hands into fists in her yukata with a jingle, and took a very deep breath, and stuck her chin up.

"We're in the same boat," he said. "Or close enough. I can't help him, he'd never let me. Maybe you can. But right now, we've got things to do, yeah?"

She deflated a little. "...yes." Gods, how could she even feel this much at once--why did things have to be complicated? She shook herself. She had to focus. Take care of her shipmates.

Motochika jerked his head towards the door, and Tsuruhime hesitated for a moment. There was so much to do, and she could barely even see her friend in the puddle of shadow in the middle of the room, would she be all right if she just ran off--

Something caught her sleeve. Oichi, looking up at her with her sad, sad eyes, darkness surging under her as hands appeared to gently lift her to her feet. "White Bird...? Can Ichi...help too?"

For a moment, Tsuruhime couldn't do anything but smile, huge and loopy, a rush of happiness that caught her out of nowhere. "Of course! Any time. Oh, Oichi-chan, I'm so glad you're awake, even if it was very rude..."

Oichi hummed, looking down at her bare feet, only half-touching the deck--her hands were holding her up. "Ichi...liked sleeping...but not sleeping isn't as bad anymore..."

She felt her heart leap in her chest, and caught Ichi's human hand to hold. "Really?"

"Ichi...sees with her eyes..."

How _could_ she even feel this much at once? Anger blew by like clouds, and she squeezed Oichi's hand and led her gently towards the door. She had been so sad, at first, back when she realized that Oichi needed a chance to sleep in peace more than anything. Then worried, as she carefully constructed spells and purifications to soothe the demon within her, the circle laid round her futon to ease the terror of her dreams--was she strong enough, would it help, would giving her a little clarity from the dark haze clutching at her soul only make her grief more keen and awful--

Motochika peered over Oichi's head at her with a lopsided smile.

"Stray cats, huh?"

It took her a long, long moment to realize what he meant. Then she stuck out her tongue at him. "Mine's prettier. And not nearly as rude."

 

Sweeping the ship and clearing out all the webs was far easier than she'd expected, mostly because of Oichi. Her hands could tear the stuff to shreds with terrible ease, even as she leaned a little on Tsuruhime and hummed to herself. Tsuruhime rushed them to open Naomasa's room first, and told him everything in a tumble as Oichi and Motochika wandered down the hallways cutting webs; he turned white, then red, then insisted upon going down to the hold and making very, very sure that the dynamite was no more. Uncle Michinao scuttled in the opposite direction, to secure the sacred bows and begin to purify the shrine. Soon the ship was abuzz, even so late that the moon was setting; more than once, Motochika had to fend off angry men trying to corner him before Tsuruhime had a chance to explain that he wasn't the cause for alarm.

The fresh night air on deck, when they finally reached it, nearly stunned her.

The men were milling, a mob of nightclothes and sleepy bewilderment, with Naomasa herding them into groups and passing on news. More than a few of them eyed Oichi clutching Tsuruhime's hand and Motochika dripping blood with some mix of suspicion and worry, even as they clamored with relief to see her. Tsuruhime just held Oichi tighter and her head high. "I'm all right, my shipmates. It's all been taken care of. Sorry you had to wait so long to get out!"

Motochika scuffed big feet on the deck and drew himself up. "My crew's gonna worry, I should take off, if you're all set."

"Of course." Tsuruhime drew a deep, deep breath of fresh air and tossed her head. "Watch yourself, Sea Devil. I still owe you a kidnapping."

His laugh seemed almost startled out of him. "Do you now."

"I most certainly do!"

His grin was almost, almost as sharp as usual. "Hah--well, good luck with that, my boys have traps like you wouldn't believe."

"And I'll beat them all!"

"Oh, that'll be fun to watch." With that, he was off, hopping over the side with a fiery flourish of his anchor, and she squeaked and tried to push her way closer to the edge to see what on earth he was doing. But soon enough, he shot into her view again, standing on his anchor and skidding off across the open sea like a pebble on ice, riding the waves with ease and kicking up spray and steam.

Well, at least _he_ didn't electrocute her.

She looked up at the moon, and didn't let go of Oichi, and breathed. 

For a moment, as the night breeze rocked the deck slight and gentle, the moon seemed darker, a shadow cast, and she looked closer, and gasped.

A ninja was perched on the very tip-top of the ship, feather light on the beam of the roof. Not Takakage's small form in his featureless black, but taller, his one bare arm like a sculpture in the moonlight, his visor a shadow over his eyes--she'd know him anywhere. She felt her heart jump into her throat, she could barely breathe. The black feathers in her dream--he'd warned her, he'd been watching over her the whole time, he must have!

She tottered forward, one hand reaching with a dancer's grace, the whole world carried away in a wash of pink. Face red as she realized he really _was_ seeing her in her pajamas, and all scorched and banged up and worn out, oh, she wished it could be different! Oichi squeaked, dragged with her. "My Twilight Ninja! Oh, thank you so much for warning me! You watch over me even in my dreams, I knew it! But why...why didn't you come and save me like before?"

He was motionless. She could barely see his face, even under his visor. But it didn't matter--he was here, on her very ship, even if it was only for a moment--

A gust of feathers and smoke, and he was gone.

She felt her stomach flip-flop, giddy with yearning, and then Oichi stumbled into her back and they both went down, one with a squeak, the other with a gasping sigh. Tsuruhime gulped air, heart pounding, and found Oichi's hand somewhere in their tangle.

"That was him! Oichi-chan, the one I love...did you see him?"

"Black Bird," Oichi hummed, distant, and didn't move, even though she was lying on her, and Tsuruhime was too blissful to care.

"White Bird and Black Bird...we really are meant to be..."

She could hear men's footsteps on the deck around where she lay, voices. Naomasa and Uncle Michinao. "You really think he was here?"

"If Little Crane said so!"

"Ah, I wish I'd seen him, I've been just as curious as her about who he is..."

Hands picked them both up. Four or five scraggling claws of darkness, big enough to wrap around her whole body and so very gentle, and two cool and weathered and familiar as houses. Uncle Michinao set her on her feet and dusted off her shoulders, chuckling, even as Oichi drifted up to lean on her shoulder in a cloud of mussed-up hair.

"He didn't have to save you, did he, Little Crane?" Michinao patted her hair down. "You fought through with your own strength."

She caught her breath, pouted faintly. "And Oichi-chan's, and all the bow spirits. And even the pirate's. A little."

"That's part of your strength. Don't ever let anyone make you think otherwise." He straightened his hat, hurriedly thrown on as the ruckus woke him, and for a moment seemed almost grave. "I'd say he wanted to give you just the warning you needed, and only rescue you if you had no other way out. It's hard, for those who watch over you, but it helps you grow stronger."

Tsuruhime felt her pout deepen, thoroughly unladylike. _Gods_ , she was tired--and seeing her Twilight Ninja had left her head spinning and her heart a-pitter-pat. "How is that different from being part of my strength..."

Uncle Michinao laughed, fond and creaky. "It's about respect, Little Crane."

"That doesn't make any seeense..."

"Ah, I know, I know. Come, let's find you someplace to sit and get you some tea. Lady Oichi too. You've done very, very well tonight, we're all very proud of you, and you deserve a rest."

Tsuruhime felt her heart warm with pride, and still wanted to protest that she was fine. That she could keep going, help everyone settle down, clear out the sodden dynamite, whatever else they needed. But apparently she really _had_ earned it, because she was dozing off on Oichi's shoulder before one of the other mikos even came over with tea.


	8. In Which Little Crane Fearlessly Takes Wing for the Hunt

For all that the entire fight with Takakage had been harrowing, life on the shrine ship returned to normal quickly enough. With the dynamite cleared out, the shrine purified, and a good night's sleep for all, there was barely any trace of the whole affair except for the missing fresh water stores. And a passing boat of fishermen soon waved them cheerfully home to their village to restock at their well in exchange for a round of fortunetelling and spiritual work, which Tsuruhime gladly undertook.

Even if they were fishermen in purple bandannas. Naomasa was eyeing them, she noticed. So she skipped right up to one and asked where his big brother was. The man shuffled his feet and grinned.

"Hey, missie, we ain't supposed to tell you _that_. Hear you're trying to kidnap him and all."

"Ssh, it's a secret! ☆"

He laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Aww, heck. Don't worry about looking too far, I suppose."

"Oh, thank you!" She bowed, trailing a heart or two.

"You intend to keep chasing him, Little Crane?" Naomasa asked as she bounced back to her shipmates.

"Why not? There's no big battles going on, and my visions haven't shown me anything I must do at the moment. Besides, I'm still curious about those unmarked ships, and we probably won't find out more about that if we head home." She scuffed a toe on the path, caught herself and straightened. "Do you...think we shouldn't?"

Naomasa nodded, slowly--that particular look on his face like he was weighing something. "I've already sent out messages to all our men back home, warning them to keep an eye out for the Mori boy. If he tries to make a strike at Iyo..."

Tsuruhime sighed, chewing her lip. "Of course. I...don't think he will, though. I looked for his fortune, the morning after he left. He was running, always running. He seemed so scared..."

"Didn't he say he could hide from your sight, to some extent?"

"He hid his intentions, when I looked deep into his soul. But he was hiding them behind something else...I didn't know then what it was, he tricked me, but I can tell _if_ he's hiding something, I think, even if I don't know what. And he wasn't."

"Well, if you truly have frightened him out of any thought of moving against us, I'd be glad. It's a good thing to make of a sticky situation."

She laughed a little. "I suppose!" And looked up at the sky, at the bright sun through Shikoku's craggy forests lining the shore. "I'm not used to being scary. It's sort of an odd feeling."

"A vengeful little demon _should_ be frightened of a banishing arrow, should he not?"

"Very!"

"And you fire the strongest arrows of all." Naomasa put a hand over his chest, bowed his head a little. "We'll sail with you always, Little Crane, and if your visions leave you free to do as you will, then we can sail hunt the Sea Devil."

She felt a bright, bright smile bubble up, and sparkled at him. "Thank you, as always!" A polite warning couched in what he said, as Naomasa often did--but she hardly needed it. If her visions showed her a greater duty, she would follow it in a moment, always; a game with Motochika, however fun, was nowhere near as important.

* * *

Tsuruhime was also completely and utterly _done_ with getting woken up in the middle of the night. So she announced to Uncle Michinao. Several times. Naomasa at least once. Pouting.

So, when she heard a soft knocking on her door in the wee hours next morning, she yelped and spilled off her futon in a bundle, and slowly staggered to her feet with an almighty whine.

"Who..."

"...Ichi...is sorry?"

Her face was hidden in her hair, when Tsuruhime slid open the door, her shoulders hunched as if she'd just done something terribly wrong, and Tsuruhime's heart softened in an instant. "No, it's okay, Oichi-chan...is something wrong?"

Oichi shook like a leaf. "Ichi...didn't mean to anger you...Ichi...is sorry..."

Tsuruhime nearly whimpered in regret--gods, the last thing she wanted was to scare her. "I'm not angry, I promise. And you haven't done anything wrong. Oh, Oichi-chan, I'm sorry..."

Oichi uncurled just enough to peer up at her, unsure, and Tsuruhime opened her arms for her, and slowly, slowly she came in.

She was awake. _That_ was the big change, since Takakage had come and gone. And one Tsuruhime liked. Middle of the night or no, she'd stay up a little for her. She made a nest of bedding like she had when she was little, and settled them both in.

"Did something happen, or did you just want to see me?"

Hesitantly, a black hand unfolded, holding a squirming wooden spider by one leg between its fingertips.

"...it tickled..."

Tsuruhime buried her face in her hand for a moment. " _Sea Devil_..."

"...little devil...?"

"Haah, yes, that's his. He sent one earlier, too, to look for the scroll he left here--oh!" She pouted. "Are we just going to be _stuck_ with it..."

Oichi tilted her head at her.

"Takakage-kun stole the scroll..." Tsuruhime sighed, crept out of her nest and scooted over to the low table that held her calligraphy supplies. "Let's see..."

_Dear Chosokabe Motochika, scoundrel lord of the wilds beyond my borders, dreaded and inappropriate pirate, scourge of the Seto sea and ogre of the western one, etcetera_...

She paused, holding the brush over the inkstone so it wouldn't drip on the paper. A soft warm weight on her shoulder as Oichi leaned on her, and she leaned back. Gods, she was too bleary to write a proper letter anyway.

_Takakage-kun stole your scroll. No more spiders! If you send more spiders I will keep them and tickle you with them when I kidnap you as your rightful punishment for rudely waking me up in the middle of the night!_

There. That would do. Wouldn't it?

"White Bird..." Oichi murmured into her shoulder.

"Oichi-chan?"

"Ichi..." She paused for a long, long moment. Tsuruhime absentmindedly painted a star on the scroll, put her other arm around her. "Oh, pretty...Ichi...has different dreams now..."

_Oh._ The brush traced swirls and sparkles. Tsuruhime took a deep breath, silently prayed that she'd be able to help with whatever troubled her, and kept painting just for her. "What kind of dreams?"

"Real ones..."

Slowly, slowly she drew the five strokes of another star. "Do you think...you're starting to remember?"

Oichi shuddered. Arms closed around her, more than two, but the black ones were without true malice, unharmed by the bells that protected her. She breathed and relaxed into their cool embrace.

"It must...be scary, Oichi-chan. I'm sorry. But you're very brave..."

Oichi was silent for a long moment, then murmured, "did...White Bird...ever forget?"

Tsuruhime drew another deep breath, and carefully drew a heart for her. "...no. Sometimes it feels...very far away, but I was little when it happened. I think...sometimes I wanted to, a little, deep down. Sometimes I'd pretend that Uncle Michinao or Naomasa was my real father. But I knew it was only pretend, and then I'd feel bad about it."

"Did...White Bird...cry?"

Tsuruhime felt her face crumple a little, almost a strange smile. "All the time. Uncle Michinao was so fussy, I'd been left in his care at the temple, and he wanted to help me but didn't always know the best way to. He's got sons, but never had a girl, or an orphan...I still fit under tables and in crates, and I'd hide in them and cry for hours. I don't think I stopped even a little until he gave me Tama-chan, when she was a tiny tiny kitten."

"Oh..." Oichi rested her cheek on Tsuruhime's shoulder, reached out to hover fingertips over her drawings. "But White Bird...stopped a lot..."

"Mm...I had to. My thoughts must be clear and bright, to do what I do and help others. It wasn't easy, though. Don't ever feel bad for crying, or for not being able to leave your grief behind right away, Uncle Michinao always told me that. It's natural. But so is finding beauty in things, and smiling, and living, and once he taught me how to pray for the dead, I realized that their spirits were watching over me and didn't want me to be sad forever."

Oichi was silent for a long, long moment; her hand shook, over Tsuruhime's artless sketch of a crane, and she slowly clutched her sleeve instead. "If they're watching...watching Ichi..."

"Oichi-chan?" She couldn't keep the worry from her voice.

The trembling passed like a storm cloud, as if something had passed from her mind along with it, but her voice was still small, a little choked, and Tsuruhime set the brush down and wrapped both arms around her because it didn't matter how pretty the painting was anymore. "Did...White Bird...ever stop...missing them?" 

"Never. Even knowing they're still there in another world. And that's...that's okay too."

"Ichi...shouldn't be allowed...Ichi is sorry...so sorry...so sorry..."

She was sobbing, sudden raw and heedless, the sort of sobbing where all Tsuruhime could do was cradle her close and murmur reassurance until she was done. It took a while. Tsuruhime didn't mind.

Oichi quieted, eventually, curled in her lap. Tsuruhime wiped her face and combed her hair feather-gentle with her fingers and let her settle, cried out, maybe some tiny bit of her grief eased. Oichi hummed a strange tune, and slowly reached to pick up the mostly-written letter, now dry.

"...still pretty..."

"Do you want me to paint you something, for your room?"

"Ichi...would like that..."

It would be something very pretty, Tsuruhime resolved. Uncle Michinao had hung a scroll of cranes in her room when she was little, and she'd stare at them every night, back when every little moment that wasn't sorrowful was precious, and imagine their wings were flapping in the candlelight.

And...she hesitated, looking at the ribbons that tied bells on her wrists for sleeping. No, she'd still have the other three, she could get a new one first thing in the morning, she'd be fine and it would help Oichi. She untied it quick and sure, rulebreaking or no, with her fingers fumbling only a little, and dropped the bell into Oichi's hand.

"Here...thread it on your sash, we can braid you an ornament to hold it in the morning."

Oichi looked at it questioningly, rung it, and her face softened a hair, an echo of a smile upon her lips. "For...me?"

"For you."

"To be...less alone?"

"Mm-hm!"

That left her with a long red ribbon in her hand, and she grinned an impish grin, looped it under the wriggling spider's chin, and tied a bow on top of its head. "There, be a good spider and bring this home to your captain." Then she reached for the pen again to sign her letter with a flourish.

_PS: Oichi-chan and I made your machine better._

Oichi's small, hesitant giggle was absolutely, entirely worth it.

* * *

Tsuruhime's morning practice--already late after prayers, painting for Oichi, and helping her knot an ornament with red thread for her bell--was interrupted again too, but that she didn't mind _nearly_ as much, especially when it meant visitors. Friendly visitors that came soaring to her deck like birds alighting from the heavens.

Well. Maybe more like a bright yellow sack of potatoes, flung in a tumbling arc through the bright blue sky and heralded by the distant snarling cry of _Iiieeeeyaaasuuuuuuu_ echoing across the rocky crags of Shikoku's shores.

Tokugawa Ieyasu slowly picked himself out of the barrel he'd landed in, wincing and shedding bits of wood. "Ah, Mitsunari still has quite the swing on him..." His eyes widened. "Oracle! I'd not realized you were sailing these waters--I didn't mean to intrude!"

She stopped gaping and shouldered her bow to jump over to him. "No problem, welcome, welcome! Hardly your fault, after all."

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little rueful. "I did think Tadakatsu would catch me..."

"Are you all right? That looked like quite a crash."

He cracked his shoulder, stretched. "Oh, I'll be fine, I've taken worse. But tell me, how are you doing? I've regretted not having a chance to speak with you after we parted ways near Sekigahara."

And even then, it had been only briefly, a handful of minutes amongst the dozens of men that swarmed around him as he marshaled one of the largest armies that had ever been seen in the land. She'd met Mr. Date then too, glimpsed the back of his famous retainer as he bustled around. They weren't the ones she'd sat with anxiously through the long night on the brink of war, before the messengers came in the morning to report that the Dark King's armies had disbanded without word or warning--but still, she'd been glad to meet them.

And even for those few minutes, and before when she'd first come to him after the disaster with Mr. Mori, Ieyasu had been warm and kind, as if they'd been friends for years. She beamed up at him. Not as far up as most, at least. "I've been wonderful, thank you for asking!" Well. Takakage. But she hardly needed to trouble him with _that_. "Not long after I got home, the Sea Devil challenged me to a ship race, I don't know if you heard about that?"

"I did!" He laughed, cheerful. "He's taking this rivalry very seriously, he's quite excited about it. I'm glad to see my friend so happy."

"Not _too_ seriously, I hope...oh, you're friends?"

"Of many years. A bit of an awkward meeting, but we worked it out, and now I'd count him as one of my closest bonds."

She tilted her head. "How awkward..."

"Well, ah, he kidnapped me."

"Seriously? Does he do that with everybody?"

Ieyasu shrugged and smiled brightly. "Wouldn't put it past him."

"And how have you been doing? Did you--" She hesitated. "Did you see Mr. Ishida?" Even _she'd_ learned, in the end, that it had been a war of vengeance on Mitsunari's part. 

He looked a touch sheepish. "Ah, how do you think I got here..."

"Are you two...still going to be fighting?"

He shook his head, a small, fond smile tugging at his lips. "I...don't think so. Not at war, at least. I don't know if Mitsunari will ever count me as a friend, but Motochika found another way to settle things. And I'm grateful for that, truly grateful, I didn't want to be forced to kill him."

"... _was_ anyone forcing you?"

He blinked down at her for a moment. "Mitsunari himself, I suppose. He wouldn't back down, no matter how I tried to convince him, and I didn't have any way of scaring him off like you did with Mori's lad\--" She blinked and he ducked his head. "Ah, Motochika told me a little about that. I'm glad you could handle that like you did, you must be very powerful."

She swelled, held her chin high. "Of course I am!"

"I'm still honored that you joined my forces, Oracle."

"Ahh, thank you! I was glad to find an ally then."

"And an ally still, if ever you need it."

"I--hope I don't! But thank you!" She bowed. "What have you been doing since the war stopped? Are you still fighting?"

He nodded, raised a fist. "I've sworn I'll unite this country. I can't give up now."

_Unification_. It felt like every third word she'd heard during the chatter across the encampments near Sekigahara had been about unification. She paused, drew a breath. "Why...why is unification so important?"

If he seemed puzzled that she had to ask, he hid it well, at least. "Because it would mean that we don't have to fight these wars anymore. If every warrior shared a bond, then we could live our days in peace, true peace, we'd never be forced to kill each other."

That--oh, that sounded so _nice_. But she still found herself pouting in confusion. "So you're...fighting wars to end wars?"

"Well--"

A mechanical roar interrupted them--she squeaked, and Ieyasu turned and waved. "Tadakatsu! What kept you?"

The great metallic form of the famous general floated up alongside Tsuruhime's railing, his face as serious as always. "...?!!"

"Your old rival the Beast? Ah, excellent, I'd heard he'd been resting in Satsuma, it's good to know he's up and about. I hope it was a good duel."

"!!!"

"Glad to hear it!" Ieyasu looked back to her. "My apologies, Oracle, I should go. Thank you for the visit."

"Ah, of course...stay longer next time?"

"I'd love to."

Mr. Honda raised a mighty hand to acknowledge Tsuruhime, and she waved in return. "Good to see you again too!"

He whirred, flattened himself so that Ieyasu could hop onto his back. Tsuruhime clutched the hem of her skirt for a moment as she looked after them.

"Mr. Tokugawa? I'm glad you found another way, with Mr. Ishida...please don't give up so easily next time?"

He went very, _very_ still for a split second. Then gave her a broad smile. "Don't worry, Oracle. I've learned a lot from Motochika, these past few days."

He leapt over her railing, high and easy for so large a man, landed with a low thud as Mr. Honda slowly rose above the surface of the sea.

"Ah, Oracle--" Ieyasu paused, crouched on his general's back, and his grin surfaced again. "The Sea Devil's flagship is right around that cape. You could catch him by morning if you sail hard!"

"Oh, thank you!"

And with a roar of engines, he was gone. At least Mr. Honda was polite enough to not leave her right in the middle of his steaming wake.

Ieyasu was such a friendly man, she thought fondly. Even if talking to him sometimes left her head spinning--oh! She'd forgotten to ask him about her Twilight Ninja _again_!

* * *

At least Tsuruhime knew which way to sail--and sail she did. Just after dawn the next day, the shrine ship rounded that little rocky cape, one of dozens that lined Shikoku's shores, only to spot Motochika's flagship barreling down on them less than an hour's journey away, heading north in full sail. Tsuruhime perched on her bow, shaded her eyes and squinted to see the men scuttling about on the deck, Motochika looming windblown on the back of a giant wooden spider, half-built. Preparing for battle, perhaps. He had _better_ not be invading Iyo!

A cannon boomed once across their bow in salute as they passed, men's roaring echoing across the waves. Tsuruhime pouted, waved her tongue at them, realized that was hardly so splashy, and fired a rain of pink light in answer. A few stunned fish floated to the surface, to be quickly swept up in pirate nets.

"At least we found them," she said to Naomasa, sitting on the railing and kicked her feet over the edge after the pirate ship passed and the shrine ship came about.

"True. But they also found us." He frowned slightly, studying their wake. "They're in force, and know where we are and what we want."

She considered, and looked over at him after a moment, thinking of what Yukimura had said over tea that day. "Is this one of your tactical lessons?"

He smiled, small and fond. "Perhaps it is, Little Crane."

She curled around the railing, kicked her heels, and hummed. "You're saying it would be silly to just rush at them."

"Especially given your goal."

"My goal...?"

"To isolate and capture their leader. That's rarely best done with a frontal assault."

He was getting very technical--but he was good at this sort of thing. Tsuruhime fiddled with her bells and let her thoughts wander, hoping she'd come up with something. Motochika must have snuck on board that night to kidnap her, maybe with a few men, but it couldn't have been too many, they would have caused a stir. Takakage had done so much just by himself.

"...oh!"

"Do you have an answer, Little Crane?"

She popped off the railing with a jingle and a few sparkles. "I do!"

He looked at her expectantly. She barely noticed--checked that her bowstring was fresh, that she had a full quiver. They were within jumping distance of shore, if she used the rocky little islands as stepping stones, and she could keep pace with Motochika's boat across treetops far better than she could by rowing. "Little Crane...?"

"If I'm not back in three days, tell Uncle Michinao to ask the sacred bows where I am. But I will be! With a pirate!"

He blinked at her, as if he hadn't expected her to rush off _quite_ so quickly--oh, he'd practically raised her, didn't he know her? "But--you _alone_ \--how will you bring him back, then?"

She paused. That--all right, that was a fair question. She couldn't immobilize people with her arrows forever, the magic wore off quickly enough, and she didn't want to freeze his toes off, that would just be mean. "Hm...oh, I know! He is a devil, after all!"

Naomasa _probably_ hadn't expected her to dash off to the storage rooms and come back with a length of rice straw rope over her shoulder. Probably. "Little Crane, I--"

"I'll see you later!" she chirped, and sprung off the deck with a burst of pink light.

"At least bring lunch!" he bellowed after her.


	9. In Which the Spirits of the Fallen Pass Close Among the Living

Lunch, of course, was no object. Tsuruhime hopped from treetop to treetop along Shikoku's shores, keeping pace with Motochika's sails over the horizon, thrumming with excitement. It really _was_ the easiest way to make this sort of strike, she was sure. He was a gregarious fellow, he'd come ashore at _some_ point, since he had men all along these shores; she could see bustling little villages beneath her perches as she went. She kept an eye out for one with relatively few purple-bandannaed men about and dropped down to politely ask hospitality in exchange for services.

Most of the village, she discovered soon enough, were former refugees Motochika had resettled. Driven from Anegawa, once under Azai rule--where, where had she heard that name before...

"Azai Nagamasa was our lord and guardian, and a kind and just man," said the farmwife Hana, strict and reserved, who served her humble rice in exchange for seeing the best paths to fortune for her little children--boys, both still round-faced and toddling, one who could become a skilled blacksmith and one who could find great joy in brewing sake. "He had allied with the Demon King, he believed in his promise of unification, and he was even given the honor of wedding his sister, the Lady Oichi--"

"Oichi?" Tsuruhime blurted, found herself gaping. "My apologies, I just--I know her, she's a dear friend of mine."

Hana almost gaped in return. "Truly? She vanished, after his death, we never knew where she went or whether she lived...but she was well loved by her people, her very presence inspired the soldiers, and it was said she and our lord had a truly loving marriage."

"I'm glad to hear that. She deserves every bit of love anyone could receive." Tsuruhime hesitated, looking at her tea for a moment. "She still grieves for him, very much."

"It...makes some things clearer, to know that, in all honesty. Some said she had a hand in his death, but I could never quite imagine it."

Tsuruhime felt a chill down her spine. "How...how could they say that...?"

"When the Demon King came to punish the Azai armies for betraying their alliance, he killed Lord Nagamasa, yet the Lady Oichi lived...some say she bargained her husband's life away for her own. But there were no witnesses. The Demon King and his mad retainer slaughtered every man on that battlefield."

Tsuruhime shuddered, wrapped both her hands around her tea bowl for a moment. Gods, that must have been terrible for her--little wonder that her mind fled from it...

"My apologies, Oracle," Hana murmured. "I did not mean to upset you with such..."

She squeaked, looked up and shook her head. "No! No, it's the truth, and my friend's past, and shouldn't be hidden even if it's sad. It's all right." She was quiet for a moment, squeaked again as one of the little boys butted into her side like a cat.

"Jiro! Be polite! She's a very important guest."

Tsuruhime laughed, ruffling the boy's hair, and he cheered and played with her sleeve. "It's all right. I don't get to play with children very often." Hana's face softened, a grateful smile in spite of herself. "If it's all right, could you...tell me more about Mr. Azai? Not just his death, but...what he was like?"

"To remember him properly, hm." She pursed her lips, then her face softened more, and she poured them both more tea. "He was a man who loved justice..."

* * *

The first night gave her no chances. He caroused with his men on the deck, sprawled in a pile of friends and cast-away bottles and coils of rope until Mitsunari's thin shadow stalked over to badger him into his cabin. She perched in a tree for as long as she could stay awake, slid down the trunk to nest in thick loam between the roots, and woke with a crick in her neck and a pounding headache in the clear white light of dawn, muzzy and briefly, intensely miserable. Ugh, she never _had_ slept outside before.

She caught up to his flagship by midmorning. It was harder to pace him now; he was sailing further out as he neared Iyo's borders, and close to evening, a string of flags for peace and safe passage straggled up the front mast. She wondered what on earth he was doing, but she didn't have the first way of guessing, and she'd see him soon enough. Nor did she have much time to rest. She prayed to lift the exhaustion weighing her limbs, bathed in the cold mouth of a river, and went right back to her chase.

As the sun sank low, luck favored her. Perfect luck, with a spray of fire in the distance as he hopped on his anchor and took off across the surface of the sea, alone, right back along his own ship's wake. She reached for her bow--what if he'd spotted her? But he sailed right past her perch, skimming across calm night waves, south along Shikoku's shores.

Even her biggest leaps couldn't keep up. She caught herself on a jagged sea rock, barnacles harsh under her hands as she crouched, and watched him flee to the horizon. Oh, how could she stay on the hunt now? He must be planning to come back to his ship soon--perhaps she should lie in wait? But no, she didn't even know where his ship was going, if he peeled away from Shikoku's shores she'd be utterly at a loss...

"No," she whispered, fierce, to nobody. Or to Yukimura, perhaps, who'd learned to fly just to chase his rival. "I'll catch you yet, Sea Devil!"

She tightened her rope around her waist, strapped her bow down, and took a deep, deep breath. Prayed to the spirits of the sea, the sea of her birth that she would honor and protect, and brought all her will to bear, and jumped. Right down to the surface of the waves.

Her battle aura bloomed under her toes. Ice crackled. And she skimmed, fast as the wind, fast as the Sea Devil, skating on one foot across the sea and leaving a trail of fast-melting ice. She spread her arms wide, raised her trailing leg high, whooped into the wind like a wild crane's cry. Oh, this was glorious, she'd catch up to him in no time like this! She even had to hang back so she wouldn't be noticed, swooping back and forth in wide arcs, jumping from foot to foot with graceful spinning leaps, keeping him close to the horizon and following his wake--wide and deep and sparking in the late golden light, unmistakable.

Even like this, it was a long, long chase. Deep into his territory, past shores and islands she didn't recognize at all, villages with watch fires burning, the occasional pirate ship drifting at anchor in the gathering dusk. Until the trail finally ended at a small island, far out from shore, and as she skimmed cautiously up to its rocky edge, she could see a small flame lighting above her.

She propped her hands on her knees and caught her breath for what felt like forever, dizzy from the focus it had taken to sail this far, ankle-deep in surf with her tabi squelching. But that was good, she supposed, gave him time to settle, not be on guard, right?

Tsuruhime padded up, slow and careful as she possibly could, trying not to ring her bells. The sun was down, the sky fading reds and golds. The island was all but empty--no buildings, not so much as a wayside shrine, just sprawling maples and stands of flowers and mossy stones, a natural beauty that took her breath away for a moment. The anchor stood in the dirt like a sentinel, flame burning in its prongs, and Motochika was sprawled in the grass with his elbows on his knees, and--doing nothing. Just sitting. Gods. Maybe he'd known she was following him all along, was he just waiting for a duel?

Well. She could certainly oblige! She shook her head for a moment to focus, smoothed down her hair, and loosened her bow. Strung it, nocked an arrow, every movement slow and soundless as she could manage. Stepped out from behind a tree--oh, he was being rude, why hadn't he _noticed_ her?

She let the arrow fly with perfect aim, nailing a coatsleeve to the ground with a glittering dust of ice. He started with some noise of raw surprise that she hadn't expected at all, his whole body clenching, whipped his head around to stare at her.

"Not _here_ , Tsuruhime."

She blinked, surprised, then tossed her head. "Whyever not? It's not as if you..."

And then it hit her--the place felt like death. Not the raw angry stain of a battlefield that she'd come to know, not corrupted by corpses, but like a shrine during the long night vigils for the dead, with the presence of spirits lingering close.

She shivered. Slowly lowered her bow.

He tugged the arrow free and held it out to her with a sullen frown, not even looking at her. Brushed away frost to melt into the grass.

"Not here," he muttered, quieter. "Please."

She drew a deep, slow breath. Came closer, took her arrow back, only a little nervous, and reflexively checked the point with her fingertips, to see if it was worth keeping, before slipping it back into her quiver.

"All right. Next time. But..."

"How the hell did you get here?" He didn't rise, and despite his rudeness, there was no anger in his voice, only a strange weariness.

"I chased you! How else?"

"Trying to catch me away from my crew so you could kidnap me, huh?"

She almost pouted. "And now I'll have to think of a different plan, I suppose. What...is this place?"

He snorted. "You seem halfway to figuring it out already." And gave no more answer than that.

She wondered if she should look. Couldn't help herself, even sensing the grief that clung to the place. Even more surprised now, that there wasn't a shrine here. Only a tiny, barely-tamed speck of natural beauty. She turned slowly, squinting in the fading light.

Her spine tingled. There were spirits remembered here. Spirits drawn here. The more she focused, the more she could feel them.

There was a particular mass of flowers before them both, as if he'd been contemplating them; it was only when she knelt before them that she could see they were growing from holes in a stone slab set harmoniously in the earth, holes that let them sink their roots through into the soil below. Stone that had names carved into it. Dozens. Hundreds, maybe, it was hard to count them where they lurked below leaves and flowers of new life. More than one that began with Chosokabe.

She could all but _feel_ the tension rolling off him as she knelt. He actually got about halfway through a sentence that started with _don't_ before trailing off as she began to pray. Softly, at first. She didn't know them, she didn't even know what spirits the Chosokabe clan had relations with; she could make no personalized pleas to their ancestors, to the guiding spirits in the world beyond. But at the core, all prayers were the same. For peace, for washing away of sins and sorrow, for ease and clarity in the great work of purification and growth beyond death. The words flowed readily from her tongue, practiced, but she had never made a prayer in her life that wasn't heartfelt.

He'd relaxed some, when she finished and looked back over her shoulder at him. Turned his head away so she could only see the blind side for a moment, face unreadable, and then a murmured, "Thanks."

"...I _am_ a priestess, you know."

He grunted, noncommittal. Slowly picked up a fallen flower and turned it in his hands. She chewed on her lip, awkward. Watched the sky fade darker, and the first few stars come out, and, eventually, asked. Quietly. "Is this what you're running from?"

His head jerked up to stare at her with an almost _hunted_ look. And then he shook it and laughed, low and bitter. "So you haven't gone looking into my secrets, then?"

"Of course not! That's against the rules, to go looking on purpose without somebody asking me to. I--I'd just seen something that morning without searching, that's all."

"Hah. 'S there anything you _don't_ have rules for?"

"Don't make that face. It's how things are." She looked down at her hands, small in her lap, at the bells catching the last light of day. Scooted back so she knelt beside him, on the right so she could actually see his face. "Is it, though?"

"What if it is?" He grumbled, shifted. "You gonna try to save me too, like the ninja brat and your demon queen? Clearly I haven't knocked you around enough."

"You've barely knocked me around at _all_ ," she pointed out, a touch haughty. But it was hard to stay mad at him at all here. Especially with her honored rival a grumpy lump in the grass. She softened, pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Everybody I've ever met has lost somebody, to all these battles. That doesn't make it any less sad, but it makes us less alone, right?"

He let out a huff of breath, the rigid hunch of his shoulders loosening. "Aye. I suppose it does." He looked down at his hands for a long moment too, tossed the bruised flower into the grass in front of her, sighed heavily. "It's not this. I know there's nothing to do but face it. But what I nearly became in the wake of this...haah, maybe that's what I'm running from. You call me a black-hearted monster without thought, but oh, I came close to becoming one. So close I could see it."

Tsuruhime felt her brow furrow. Like that meant everything and nothing at all. Just like that vision she'd had. Blood and broken glass on the Sea Devil's claws--she knew now that he'd killed Mr. Mori. In revenge. Revenge for all the dead whose spirits circled here, maybe. But she still felt like she knew so little...

"But you didn't," she said eventually.

"Haah. I can hardly take credit for it. If Sayaka hadn't beaten sense into me..."

"...Sayaka?"

"An old friend." He laughed bitterly and flopped back to lie in the grass. "No doubt she'd have something cutting to say to me right now. Hell. Why am I talking about this with you, of all people?"

"Because I'm nice?"

He snorted. "And you've never doubted that, have you? Or doubted yourself at all?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it. What a strange question...how was she even supposed to answer it? "Why would I need to?"

"Still a child," he murmured.

Oh, how she would have _whacked_ him if they'd been anywhere else. "How _dare_ you--take that _back_!"

"Why? If you're Iyo's supreme commander, you'll have precious short time before doubt starts eating your guts. Enjoy it while you can."

Was this one of his upside-down ways of being nice? "What's that supposed to mean? There's plenty of grown-ups who don't doubt themselves too."

He laughed softly. "They're faking it. Or old people, or crazy people, but beyond that, everybody's faking. Some of 'em are just better at it than others."

She pouted. "What...how good are you?"

"Oiii." He flapped a hand. "S'pose you can answer that better than I can."

She stroked her chin and hummed. "Well, I can tell, so you're probably not very good at all."

He half-heartedly aimed a kick at her; she batted his foot away. Then he caught his breath, sudden, sat up. "Oracle, look--we make good rivals. And we make a good team, too. I'm sailing north to battle--not in Iyo, I swear it, but in Chugoku."

"Chugoku?" she blurted. What did this have to do with anything?

"She's open for the taking now, and there's more than one lord putting in a bid. That's rich land, far richer than most of Shikoku, and I got a lot of men who could live a little better. And now that I know a few things about Mori's runt, I don't want Kobayakawa forces on my doorstep, or yours, and their mad monk's tearing up the eastern front."

She started at him. What even was this? Did he seriously think she'd help him pillage? "And you want me to...come with you?"

"I'm just saying you _could_. You'd gain a lot for Iyo, with a piece of Chugoku to call your own..."

He trailed off as she shook her head slowly. "...no. I'll guard Iyo's borders, and if my visions lead me to strike, I will, but I don't want to get involved in battle for its own sake anymore. Not serious battles, I mean--our fights are fun! But..."

"Keeping your hands clean, huh." His voice was strangely calm.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Did I say there was?" He puffed out a sigh. "No doubt the cynical men would line up to rub it in your face that they don't think you can and you might as well get over yourself and crawl in the dirt, but fuck 'em."

"And you're not a cynical man?"

He shrugged, broke her gaze to slump back into a sprawl. "Try not to be."

She looked up at the stars, more and more coming out as they spoke. "So...you think I can?"

"Keep your hands clean? Depends a lot on how readily you'll bloody them to defend your own. But either way, it'll be hard as hell. You'll need to be tough, and everyone slips sometimes, and there's always the chance it'll get you killed. But just trying makes you worth more than a lot of men out there."

"Well. I'll do my best. Absolutely!" She pumped a fist, trailing pink sparkles as bright as the stars. "But what about you?"

He went rather still. "What--what about me," he mumbled, voice flat. "You already know that's a lost cause."

"How--how can you say that? Even if you _did_ just invite me to go pillaging with you--"

"That wasn't--"

"I know you do a lot of kind things, too!"

"What do you even know--"

"I ate lunch yesterday with a family from Anegawa. I've met refugees who were looking for you because they'd heard you could help them. Why--if you try to be a good person, why do you keep pretending to be a bad one?"

He stared at her with his jaw slack for a moment, and then sputtered. "Because both are way messier than they look--damn it, girl, what makes you think I'm pretending? I am who I am, I ain't got the luxury of being nice all the time!"

She flinched, felt her face heat in reflexive anger. " _Luxury_? When you work so hard to help them? Then what made you doubt yourself so much?"

He froze, sudden and stiff as if she'd shot him. Then jerked away from her almost violently, rolled to his feet, pulled the anchor out of the earth. She sprung up as well, worried for a moment that he'd start a fight here regardless, over an argument that she barely even understood anymore--no, even _he_ couldn't be that crude, could he?

But no, he just turned, slowly, eventually met her gaze as she glared up at him in bewilderment.

"I gotta get back to my ship."

She opened her mouth, closed it. "Running again?"

He looked ready to spit for a moment. Then shrugged. "So what if I am? I can do as I like."

"Well, I did say 'next time,' so I suppose I have to let you go."

He stopped halfway to the shore, his surly frown softening a little. "Honorable as always," he murmured. "Hell. Thank you, anyway."

She blinked at him. Kept blinking as he stepped on his anchor, wrapped the heavy chain around his fist.

"You're very welcome, be that way, then!" But she wasn't even sure he heard it as he shot off over the sea.

She watched his flames disappear over the horizon, stood there alone in the dim moonlight. Briefly, she felt terribly lost, frightened, deep in foreign territory with no way to find her path back--but no, she could send an arrow to guide her back to the shrine ship, she'd be all right. And she wanted so very much to be home right now, even if she'd missed her chance to kidnap him.

Before she left, though, she uncoiled the rope from her waist and strung it between the two maple trees closest to the slab, hanging over it in a graceful arc. Even gathered grass to slip between the coils in bundles, though she had no paper. It wasn't much, nowhere near the proper rites; it would probably blow away in the first storm, and she doubted Motochika would ever see it. But it wasn't for him, after all. It was for them. One more touch of cleansing, one more step towards purification.

It was the best she could do.

* * *

Tsuruhime's visions the next morning didn't tell her anything more about that black whirlpool the Sea Devil was running from, what haunted him. Instead they were--

_Light. Light. Nothing but golden light, dripping from the sky like nectar, light that made the glow within Takakage seem like a pale, false shadow in comparison. She was bathed in it, there was gold as far as she could see, warm and pure, as if she basked in high noon with her eyes closed and the sun warming her skin. It might be such perfect bliss. But she was lost, she was alone, she could walk through the light forever and not find anything else--_

**_Tsuruhime_ ** _._

_\--finally, somebody. The dim outline of a figure, whether a shadow in the light or the source of it all--she couldn't quite tell._

**_Tsuruhime, young seer, heed my words_ ** _._

_Hello? Who's there? Could she even speak?_

_The voice was a woman's, ancient, noble. The figure draped in antique clothes, long sleeves, a ring upon her head like the sun. Dazzling, dazzling, so beautiful that she could barely find words. Who...who are you...?_

**_I am Himiko, seer and queen of ancient times. Even now, I watch over this land of the rising sun, and you, her Oracle._ **

_Lady Himiko herself? Her heart leapt in joy and awe. She'd heard the stories, Uncle Michinao had loved telling them, it was no surprise to think a spirit that pure and strong still watched the land of the living, but--_

_\--m-me? I'm honored, honored beyond words..._

_Still she felt as if she had no form, no voice, yet the dazzling figure seemed to hear her very thoughts._

**_Of course, my child. I can see all, now and forever. I am what you might one day become, and as such I can see even farther than you. Into your own future, and those things which have become entwined with it and lost to your view. So I have come to warn you._ **

_Warn me...? Is something wrong?_

**_Yes. Something you do not see, for you are fundamentally a part of it. The Beast stirs again._ **

_The Beast...?_

**_Once he rampaged across all this land, with nothing but conquest and cruelty in his heart. His blade has taken the lives of thousands, his strategic cunning is immense, and he is a warrior that can rival Honda Tadakatsu himself. And that dream of dominion stirs within him again. He has conquered the Badger's lands, and is gathering strength. Soon he will ride forth, with none strong enough to oppose him as far north as Osaka, and as the southern provinces fall to him, his heart shall be lost entirely to battle. He shall become a bloody god of destruction, and the war will ravage this nation still bleeding from the Demon King and the Conqueror._ **

_Tsuruhime shuddered, felt cold even in the endless light of Himiko's presence. Could Mr. Shimazu really be that bad? He'd been scary to fight, it was true, but friendly, and there had been little blood on the ground in that battle..._

**_So he is now, and so he has been content for years. But if his blood stirs and is fed by battle and death, the fate of war will be inevitable._ **

_I...I think I understand...but why am I so important to him? I barely know him!_

**_Yet you once convinced him with your arrows to lie at peace in his homeland, and with this warning and a swift wind, you yet have time. You and you alone could avert this fate of war, if you meet him truly wishing for peace._ **

_Then...then I shall! I promise! Because I do, I want that most of all, I..._

**_But it grieves me to say...there will be a price to pay, young seer. The sun-shadow who fled from your arrows yet lives, and yet plots to kill you. With stolen knowledge, he lurks in Tosa Bay and builds an infernal machine that can rob you of your magic and defeat you without question. You must set sail immediately, if you wish to quell the Beast, but in the time that will take, he will finish his task and have the power to take your life._ **

_He...what? But--but Lady Himiko, I'd know, I can tell when he's hiding something from me..._

**_You could once, it is true. But now your fates have crossed, and he lies further still beyond your sight._ **

_Her head was spinning. Was this truly what it came down to? Her own life, the price for saving the entire land from a terrible war?_

**_Yes. That is your fate, and the choice you face. Such news is heavy to bear, but I could not stand back and watch you any longer, for if I did not reach out to warn you, you would see neither threat until it was too late._ **

_I...thank you, then, Lady Himiko...truly thank you, from the bottom of my heart--_

\--new.

She woke with a start with the rising sun full in her face, heart hammering and breathless, and for a moment, barely knew where she was.


	10. In Which Ogre and Crane Dance to Banish the Sorrows of War

The last time Tsuruhime rushed up on deck in her sleepwear after her visions had been when she was little, the first time she saw something that scared her. Uncle Michinao had made her breakfast and soothed her, said the roaring red demon in her dream was far, far away and couldn't hurt them. After that, she'd learned to calm herself, to sit and breathe deep in the mornings, to see what she saw with clear eyes and a mind unclouded by anxiety or doubt.

So both he and Naomasa looked terribly alarmed as she rushed out with her sleeping yukata fisted in both hands and yelped that she needed to talk to them _right away_.

They settled in the little cabin that Naomasa used for troop dispatches and strategizing, lined with maps and notes. "You...you should probably write this one down," Tsuruhime blurted at Uncle Michinao.

"I--yes, of course." He rolled out paper, a brush; Naomasa just waited with a furrowed line on his clear handsome forehead. "But, Little Crane, are you all right?"

"I..."

What could she say? It wasn't important right now. She smiled, bright and warm.

"Of course. It's just...you need to know this. What I've seen. And I already know what I'm going to do."

They exchanged glances--fussy ones, or maybe the _goodness she can be stubborn sometimes, just let her have her way for now_ ones. "Then...tell us, Little Crane, please," Naomasa said, mostly serene.

Everything would change. But she couldn't ignore this. Couldn't turn back.

She took a deep breath and explained. Every detail she could remember. Uncle Michinao's eyes were big as eggs at Himiko's name. They both stirred when she spoke of the Beast, paled when she spoke of Takakage's plot.

"Little Crane," Naomasa started, hand splayed over a map of Kyushu.

"I must sail against the Beast," she said, making her voice as firm and bright as she could.

Their faces crumpled. Silence hung. Until Naomasa lurched to his feet after a few ragged breaths.

"Tsuruhime, _no_!"

She tried not to quaver, just look steadily up at him. "What else can I do, in good faith?"

"Think of your shipmates--Lady Oichi--all of us!" Michinao slid the scroll slowly away from him, rested a hand on his nephew's arm; he paid him no heed. "How could you leave us so carelessly?"

Tsuruhime _did_ quaver at that, felt her face growing hot with shame, but her voice rose regardless. "And what would a _war_ do to all of you? I can't let that happen either!"

"Once he took the Otomo lands, Iyo would be next," Michinao croaked. "Unless he was foolish enough to move straight for the Chosokabe territories without conquering Shikoku's western flank, and the Beast is no fool. We _are_ the first line of defense against any attack from Kyushu."

"Then we meet him here! Take the time to stop the brat's business, then ally with Chosokabe if we have to, offer Otomo a guarded channel to retreat in exchange for his and the Thunder King's aid, even reach out to Kobayakawa if we can confirm he's not sanctioning his foster's actions--"

"No!" Tsuruhime jumped to her feet herself, almost queasy to be arguing with him like this. "We don't know if that will stop him!"

"It's got a good chance of it!" Naomasa barked.

"And how many of you would--would _die_? I _know_ how to stop him!"

"Don't waste your life when there's another way! You're too important!" Naomasa had her by the shoulders, almost painfully tight, and she realized, with a sudden wrench, that he didn't sound angry--he sounded _scared_.

"Being able to stop a war as bad as the one Mr. Toyotomi started-- _that's_ important." Her voice cracked, came out quavery--gods, no, she couldn't cry, not right now, that would be _ridiculous._ "My Twilight Ninja will come again, he always comes, I'll be fine..."

"And what if he doesn't this time? You don't have to stop it all by yourself, bear the cost all by yourself--Little Crane, what are your shipmates _for_ if not to help you? What would happen to Oichi if you left her alone again like that? How could--"

" _Naomasa-kun_ ," Uncle Michinao grated out.

The three of them froze, him still clutching Tsuruhime's shoulders, his uncle's wrinkled hand tight on his elbow. Tsuruhime almost squeaked--so rare it was that Uncle Michinao raised his voice like that. "That was cruel," he added after a moment.

"Uncle," Naomasa breathed, voice ragged. "You can't possibly--you can't possibly accept letting her _die--_ "

"Think. Calm your soul and think." The harsh edge was gone from Michinao's voice as quickly as it had shown.

Naomasa dragged a deep breath, peeled his hands off Tsuruhime's shoulders, and bowed his head. Tsuruhime sagged to her knees with a dull thump--gods, gods above, this was even worse than she'd thought.

"Little Crane," Uncle Michinao asked gently. "Lady Himiko said that you were the best chance of calming the Beast. But what did she say about the Mori lad? Are you the only one who can stop him?"

It took her a moment to even fully register what he was asking. Another moment to think. "N-no...only that it would need to be done soon, sooner than the journey to Satsuma and back."

Michinao drew himself up, seeming satisfied. "Then I'll take a division, our best engineers, and our fastest ship."

"Uncle," Naomasa blurted, eyes wide. "You alone? Tosa Bay's in Chosokabe territory--"

"And he's next on the lad's grudge list, it'll be in his interest to allow us passage. Do not forget how recently I've taken up arms and rudder both to defend Iyo, nephew. I'm a ship's general yet, and the boy's quite small without his toys."

"Let me--"

"No. She'll need you at her side, if she's to face the Beast again."

"...I'm right here," Tsuruhime sighed, but her voice was small and there was no heat in it.

They both looked down at her, Michinao concerned, Naomasa rawly upset.

"What do you say to this, then?" Michinao asked.

Tsuruhime drew a deep, shaky breath. "I'm...going to Satsuma. No matter what. I...I can't turn my back on that, I'm sorry, I'll go alone if I have to."

"Not alone," Naomasa whispered. "Never alone."

"But if you can stop Takakage, and if it helps Naomasa--of _course_ I'd want that, I'm so happy you thought of that, thank you so much." She smiled, really genuinely smiled, even with her eyes pricking a little. "I don't _want_ to die..."

"Of course you don't." Uncle Michinao sighed, gave her a warm, sad smile and opened an arm. "Come here...we've got a lot of work ahead of us, but we will have hope always."

Tsuruhime felt her heart warm, and wobbled to her feet, and buried herself in his side.

"We raised her to be a kind, selfless girl," Uncle Michinao murmured over her head as he bundled her up, in that quiet tone that always meant it was just for his nephew.

"And this is where that leads..." Naomasa let out a breath, bowed his head.

"Letting them go is the hardest part. How do you think I felt when you first rode to war, lad?"

Naomasa's laugh was soft, almost bitter. "And you call me cruel, Uncle."

* * *

When all the making up was done and the details were worked out, Tsuruhime crept up to the very tip-top of her ship and closed her eyes and whispered into the wind.

"Oh, my Twilight Ninja! I know you must see far beyond yourself, across the sea and underground and everywhere. So please, please, I hope you see me now. I...I'm risking my life. And I'm sorry!" She bowed her head, almost shuddered. "After all your hard work...I don't mean to be ungrateful! But it's for something that's very important, for me and for everybody. Please...I hope you understand..."

Could she see him, there in the sky, a shimmering echo of his face as he watched over her, as pink and red light poured down around her and warmed her heart? She almost could.

"I love you," she whispered, clasping her hands tight. "I love you, I love you, whether you come for me when Takakage-kun does or I never see you again--that doesn't change anything. I...I just thought you should know."

He wouldn't answer. He never did. But she summoned the brightest heart she could around the point of an arrow and let it fly high in the sky, even as she could barely breathe from the thought of him, and it didn't fall back down, and that would have to be enough.

* * *

In the late afternoon, as engineers and irregulars began to trickle in from across the fleet on Michinao's orders, Oichi was awake. She still slept most of the day; even if she was no longer ruled by and lost in the black depths of her demon half, she often hid from daylight. Tsuruhime was hardly alarmed by it. Purification was a gradual process, after all, one slow bit after another, and she didn't even know how far it _could_ go, with one both demon and human, without dividing her soul or causing her pain. All she could do was her best, guide Oichi as far as gave her health and happiness. She paused for a long moment as she ran her hands over the rope laid on the floor, the familiar twist of fine straw strong and pure under her fingertips.

She had to help her.

She had to help the country.

For a moment, she felt like the choice Himiko had shown her would tear her heart in two.

No. No, she had to be strong, to place her trust in Uncle Michinao and her Twilight Ninja and never show fear. She could be bright, and move forward without doubt, and find a way around that choice. She _had_ to.

"...White Bird...?"

Oichi was stretching, slow and tired, her hair a tangle from sleeping. There were no shadows under her at all tonight; the only hands that reached hesitantly for her were human. Tsuruhime smiled, warm and genuine, passed over the rope, and sat next to her futon.

"Good afternoon! Did you sleep well?"

Oichi nodded after a moment. Looked up at the ceiling. "Everybody's...moving..."

"Mm." Tsuruhime felt her smile thin just a little. "They're all getting ready to sail, and maybe to fight."

Oichi took a deep shuddering breath, and her face crumpled, and Tsuruhime reached for her hand. Now that she knew--gods, she must have seen terrible things, the day her husband died, and even if she didn't remember them clearly, they must still weigh on her soul. 

"Another...battle...? Ichi...Ichi doesn't..."

Tsuruhime's heart clenched. "It'll be all right. I don't want to fight, I'm going to try my best to keep it from becoming a battle. My visions say that I can." She ducked her head. "Naomasa's just worrying. He wants to be able to protect me if something goes wrong, but I won't let it."

"White Bird...will be as strong as last time...?" Oichi was squeezing her hand, almost hard enough to hurt, and she folded her other hand over hers and squeezed back.

"Stronger. As strong as I have to be."

"White Bird...will...come home...?" There was a tear caught in her lashes.

"I will." She let go of her hand just long enough to pull her into an embrace instead. Oh, gods, how could she tell her about Takakage? She couldn't. She just couldn't. Even the thought made her queasy. So instead she squeezed her tight and rocked her gently and felt her throat squeeze down so she could only whisper, hoarse and utterly earnest. "I will. I promise."

She had to. She didn't have a choice.

* * *

Even in the greatest hurry, it would take several days' preparation to sail for Satsuma. Several days in which there was precious little Tsuruhime could do except pace the deck and pray for success, or hang at the elbows of Naomasa and Uncle Michinao as they milled in the center of a minor explosion of maps, dispatches, and inventories. It was Michinao who finally turned, fluffed her hair, and told her that the best thing she could do, right now, was enjoy herself before they left. "Or you'll get circles under your eyes, and who wants to go to lovely Satsuma like that?"

She had Michinao and her Twilight Ninja to help her. She'd be all right. Of course she could enjoy herself. It seemed ridiculous to think she'd be allowed--but gods, she _wanted_ to, as if all her battle-nerves had turned into swooping excitement and wandering feet at the mere suggestion.

And she _did_ still owe the Sea Devil a kidnapping. Even if they'd parted--awkwardly. And if that was the last time she saw him before she--no, she couldn't think about it like that.

She did it properly this time. Enlisted the help of her wildly indulgent naginata teacher, a boisterous young foot-soldier who insisted upon being called Onigiri-sensei and had dragged her into more than one ridiculous scrape when she was littler--he always had the weirdest ideas. The shackles were his doing. And he lent his suit of clothes. The ambush was her design--well, almost entirely. Mostly. At least half.

No waiting for him to be alone this time. She spotted his ship on the horizon, skated right up across the sea, and raised her bow high. "Sea Devil of the West!" Her voice was clear and bright, loud as she possibly could, and echoed off the hull; the men roared in answer from the deck above. "I know you sail in earnest, but I also know you can catch up with your ship when you wish, so I challenge you now!" Her heart was pounding--oh how strange it was to be the challenger, she felt shamelessly bold. "Meet me in a duel upon these seas that are my home, if you dare!"

It took only a few moments, and some grousing that sounded like it came from Mitsunari, before he appeared--really, how could he refuse? One foot on the rail, anchor over his shoulder, all ridiculously a-swagger. "Haha, your timing couldn't be better, Oracle--there's nothing like sailing for battle to get my blood up! I'll accept any challenge you've got for me! Prepare yourself!"

"You'd better be ready too! ☆" She sang with a bright smile, skating backwards, feet spread a little to keep her balance as she bowed and strung her bow. All the time it took for him to leap onto his anchor and launch himself in a circle of flame. He barreled right towards her, with a savage grin and a roar of fire and water, a far faster charge than she'd expected. She dodged with inches to spare, whirled on the frozen waves, fired three arrows in one shot as the world blurred by; he swerved between them with a huge spray in his wake and whooped into the wind. Oh, this was _so_ much better than that awkward chatter last time, or running around scared in the dark, this was wonderful!

"Haha, show me what you're made of, little girl!" He whirled close, the anchor chain tripped her and sent her flying head over heels, and she didn't miss a beat. She soared, heart in her throat with excitement, dropped a perfect landing back onto the ice and spun like a top until she steadied, laughing all the way.

"Think you can keep up, you big old ogre?"

For she couldn't forget her goal. She was faster, if she put her will into it, and could hold her distance and fence him in with her arrows--she controlled the fight, as Onigiri-sensei would say, and she tried to remember everything he'd ever taught her about leading her opponent. She herded him to the shore in wide joyous arcs, following landmarks to make sure she was close to where her conspirator lay in ambush, and at the end, she didn't even have to drive him. He raced for land, spun off his anchor on a stony beach, and brandished it with a grin.

"You'll not have me at a disadvantage for long, missie! Now stop running and face me proper!"

Tsuruhime spread her arms like wings and skated fast for him, laughing and singing into the wind. "Oh, I shall, I shall!" She kicked a toe on her sea ice, gave a little spinning jump, and landed all atwist, aiming her bow at the sky. "Get ready!"

He had a bare moment to get halfway through a foul curse before the pink spears of light rained down and rooted him to the spot, motionless. She skidded closer, froze him again just as the first one started to wear off. 

Onigiri-sensei hollered from the top of the hill he'd hidden behind and pelted down to join her, waving the wooden shackle he'd brought with its chain lead clattering. From there, she just had to keep the Sea Devil hemmed in with ice and immobilizing light, an intricate dance that never let him move for more than a second at a time until she froze his anchor to the ground and Onigiri-sensei shoved his strong wrists into the shackle and snapped it shut.

He unfroze at the last to find himself disarmed, shackled, and staring down the length of a glittering arrow as she winked and sparkled. Just as Onigiri-sensei swept his legs out from under him with the butt of his naginata and dropped him on his knees.

"Next time has come, Sea Devil! Surrender now and follow me to your fate! ☆"

Shock and anger warred on his face before he broke into a wide, savage grin, laughing even as he panted for breath and struggled against the shackle and the spear shaft bearing down on the back of his neck. "And here I thought this would have to wait until I was finished in Chugoku. Well played, girl, I'll give you that."

"Don't worry, it'll be a quick visit! See, I'm much more civilized about my kidnappings than you are." She tossed her head. "And I'm in a hurry today too. If you come quietly, you'll be back to your ship in only an hour or two."

"Hoh--and if I don't?" There was a dark and wild spark in his eye, and his battle aura was rising, faint flames beginning to wreath his hands--she didn't doubt he could burn his way out, given enough time.

She smiled brightly down at him. "It'll take longer, of course."

He rolled his head and let his arms relax into the shackle after one final heave, flames vanishing as quick as they appeared. "Damn, why do I have to be responsible...why're you in a hurry, anyway?"

She lowered her bow. "Oh, I'll tell you later--get his anchor, please, Sensei? It's awful heavy, but he'll need it to get home."

Onigiri-sensei hefted it from the melting ice with far more ease than she ever could, whistled, and leaned it on his shoulder almost like Motochika himself carried it. Then kicked the chain attached to the shackle between Tsuruhime's feet. "He's all yours."

Tsuruhime tucked her bow away, then crouched to scoop up the chain and tug Motochika up to his feet. He was still panting, _and_ grinning like an idiot, looking between her and Onigiri-sensei with curiosity. "So where're we headed?"

She glittered, tossed her head, and dragged him after her, marching inland. "It's a surprise!"


	11. In Which the Demon of the Western Seas Must Sharpen his Fangs

"A tea house," Motochika said slowly, staring at the gracious little building set in a quiet patch of forest near one of Iyo's border shrines. They were on Tsuruhime's territory by now, after all; she had everything she needed to set this all up.

"Mm-hm! You kidnapped me for one of your parties, after all. It's only fair I return the favor." She poked him in the bare side with the tickling fletches of an arrow; he jumped and yelped, shackles rattling. "And you had better be on your best behavior."

"Why?" He--whined, that was full-blown whining. "It's not like you actually partied at _my_ party, you went and fell asleep."

She poked him again, and tried very hard to ignore how Onigiri-sensei had a hand clamped over his mouth like he was trying not to laugh. "Well, that's what you get for waking me up in the middle of the night. Sit and have tea, now, I say so, and I'm the one who's got you tied up right now!"

"Her logic _is_ impeccable," Onigiri-sensei managed between his fingers.

"Has anyone ever told you how impossibly, unladily bossy you are?" Motochika groaned.

This time she whapped him upside the head with the arrow. Not that anyone could whap anyone with an arrow very hard. "And has anyone ever told you how impossibly unfair and _crude_ you are? Ladies get to boss people around too! Unladily isn't even a word!"

"It is now!"

"Nope! I deny it. Utterly denied!" She poked him in the ribs again.

"Do we have _time_ for this?"

She folded her arms and tossed her head. "Informal! Very informal! It's not like your best behavior is _that_ good, and I only have tea and sweets anyway."

He cracked a grin. "You haven't finished training to do the whole song and dance, have you?"

"Oh, boy," Onigiri-sensei stage-whispered. "You'd better duck, devil."

She opened her mouth, felt indignation hot on her face. And then brought up a sparkling smile. "I suppose I'll have precious short time before full-length ceremonies too, then! Now be a good devil and go let Onigiri-sensei get you dressed."

Motochika stared at her as if surprised that she hadn't taken the bait, then whipped around to stare at Onigiri-sensei as if surprised that anyone would be _called_ that. Then looked back to her and pouted. "Get me dressed--no, _why_."

"Because I say so!" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Surely you're not going to run away from _tea._ "

He all but growled. "Oh, you little..."

One last poke, and then she offered his chain to Onigiri-sensei, who wavered as he tried to balance the anchor while reaching for it. "You can just stick it in the ground, please, Sensei, he does it all the time."

"Right-o." Onigiri-sensei did just that, and then tugged their captive towards the guest entrance. "Come, it's always best to do what the Boss of Iyo says."

"Respectfully, Sensei, that is not my title!" Tsuruhime huffed.

* * *

Tsuruhime ducked into the tea house's tiny kitchen with smug glee. She'd already laid everything out in the main room--it was hard to pick utensils from an unfamiliar collection, and of course that was the part she'd take forever to get good at anyway, she knew, but there'd been a bowl with specks of white like sea foam that she'd liked, so that would have to do. Now she just had to get changed herself. First the bells that tied right around her wrists, to replace the ones on her sleeves, though she didn't change her socks. Her pretty pinkish-red kimono with the painted cranes, and a silvery obi that echoed the patterns of their wings, carefully tied in a large bow. She'd waffled for what felt like hours before they left over her hair ornaments, finally let Oichi pick for her--white flowers. Oh, she almost _never_ got to dress up fancy like this; most of the time she was in her armor dress for battle, or the plain white and red she'd practically grown up in for ceremonies, and this sort of thing was so fun. She patted her hair into place, rinsed her face in the last of the bucket of water she'd drawn for the kettle, and hoped she wasn't _too_ sweaty from battle. _He_ would probably stink, no doubt, but there was little she could do about that; and anyway, she was a girl, and thus required and privileged to be more presentable than him, no matter what.

 _And_ had to be waiting in the main room by the time he entered, as was proper. At least he seemed to be taking longer than she might expect. Onigiri-sensei had gotten together a suit of clothes for him, his best on loan, with a plain black formal jacket to top it that he'd scrounged up from what he called his "nameless rogue" days. She hardly had one with Chosokabe crests on it on hand, after all.

Finally, the screen slid open, and he padded in, free of his shackles and barefoot because nobody had remembered socks, and stared at her for a moment. She sparkled and smoothed down her already perfect kimono. And stared back for a moment, because goodness, he looked different. Everything tucked in crisp and clean, white and deep indigo and black, back straight, no swagger. Even the wild mess on his head was smoother. He was big in Onigiri-sensei's clothes, collar hanging a little open, knobby ankles and big bare feet sticking out of hakama that were rather too short, but even then he looked almost respectable, it was bewildering.

He approached and bowed, formal, not particularly humble because--he _was_ the head of a fine family, wasn't he, born to it right and proper, of course he'd know. So easy to forget, with how he acted like a terrible rogue all the time. Her chin came up, and then she bowed in return, and didn't catch her breath in surprise, really. And didn't stare, really, when they both straightened, at the scars that scraped up where his eye had been, a solid-knit mass of white in a deep, deep hollow, marks where it had been stitched up and furrowed lines trailing into his hairline. No wonder he wore a patch so large and ridiculous to cover it; whatever took his eye had come close to shredding his whole _face_.

"Welcome, Sir Chosokabe." Ugh, it was so _unfair_ , she'd thought he'd be just as much of a fish out of water as she'd been on his ship, especially after all that whining, but he wasn't, he just rolled right along with it, stupid stupid unfair pirate.

"My thanks, Honored Oracle." It wasn't like he couldn't catch her staring. "Do you wish me to retrieve my eyepatch?"

She stiffened--he still asked the _worst_ questions even when he was pretending to behave. "N...o. It is not necessary."

"Very well." She wondered if that was slight relief on his face. "Your fortitude, as always, is most admirable."

"R...really?" She snapped her mouth shut where it had fallen open--gods, why had that caught her by surprise, she'd beaten him up three times by now, he'd better think she had fortitude! "I mean, yes, thank you!"

A grin tugged at his face, and he took his spot, kneeling neatly--very proper, not even the usual arrogant lordling distance between his knees. No distance at all, even, his hands folded in his lap. She tilted her head, curious.

"...why are you sitting like a girl?"

He started and--reddened, a vivid flush under white hair. And then rocked back on his butt to sprawl, shaking out his legs. "Aahhhgg! I can't do this anymore! Start the damn water if you're gonna do the thing!"

She squeaked, puffed out her cheeks, and then smiled cheerfully. Not as unfair as she'd thought! "So you admit defeat, then, Sir Chosokabe?"

He growled and folded his arms, steaming gently. "Thought this was a party, not a duel, missie--you want one, I'd be more than happy to provide."

"Like the last three I won?" She sparkled cheerfully, prepared to start the water boiling with practiced grace.

"You better watch yourself, girl," he muttered, shoulders hunched. "Someday I'll stop holding back on you, then you won't have it so easy."

Her hands froze. Halfway through lighting the fire, and she didn't even notice the kindling burning down to her fingertips as she stared at him, chest clenching. Like some pieces of the world had just turned upside-down, and she wasn't even sure what.

"Whoa, whoa, careful." He reached across, smacked out the little flame with one broad bare hand, and it was huge next to hers, and she felt her face heat with indignation.

"You... _what_? You've been holding back on me? All this time?"

He looked bewildered, withdrew his hand now that the fire was gone. "Well, yeah. Wouldn't do to just defeat you right away, I wanted to see what you were made of--"

"You _arrogant_...arrogant _jerk_!" She smacked a palm down on the table, jarring all the utensils, and he jolted. "You don't think I'm strong enough?"

His eye widened, and he shook his head. "Tsuruhime, hey, that's the last thing I meant--"

"You've just been toying with me?" Her head pounded with sudden, frantic anger. "Even _you_?"

"What--what the hell's that supposed to mean? First you're afraid that I'm gonna kill you, now you're mad that I'm playing around and letting you win--"

" _Letting_ me?" She gaped at him in fury, hadn't even realized she'd stood until she found herself looking down at him. "Don't you ever let me win again! What's the worth in that, stupid? I don't care if you really are that strong and I'll never win again, don't you _dare_ \--" She caught her breath, fists clenched by her sides. "Get out! Idiot!"

He lurched to his feet, indignant himself. "Look here, Oracle--"

" _Out_!" She pointed to the door with a flap of her painted sleeve.

He stared at her for a moment, tense and looming, and then something in his face crumpled and he turned away.

"Fine," he muttered. And started to leave, just like that. For a moment, he filled the door with his broad back, and her heart suddenly sunk. He'd sail to Chugoku, she to Satsuma--what if one of them didn't come back? What if Takakage slipped Michinao's net? She'd spent all day setting this up, she was in her best dress, and when would she get another chance, and--

"Wait," she blurted, and he went very still.

"Make up your mind," he said tensely after a long, long silence, not looking back at her. Which was a fine time to bury her face in her hands for a moment.

"I...I have. Come back. I-if you want to, I mean."

"Well, I...gotta admit I'm a bit thirsty, after that fight."

She actually managed to laugh a little. "Mm. All right. I...I'm sorry I--"

"Don't you dare," he said, almost calmly, and turned to pad back to his spot. "You got the right to be pissed, you've got pride like any warrior." He sat cross-legged this time, hands wrapped around his ankles and a little hunched. "I got a fondness for playing around with the flashy moves in a duel for fun, and I don't like cutting things short by sticking somebody in a net or putting them through a bulkhead--"

"You can _try_ ," she said, a touch sharply. "I'm tougher than I look."

He ducked his head. "Startin' to learn that, yeah."

She had to swallow before she asked, but she needed to. "Did you...let me win every time?"

He shook his head. "Today. Stopped really fighting once you froze me. Who knows, you might've been able to keep me pinned anyway, but fire's fire..." He shrugged. "Our other two fights...I could've given 'em more, without resorting to fatal attacks, but I didn't throw them. Not as such."

"Give them more," she said quietly, and straightened the flowers in her hair. "If I beat you, I want to know I've earned it. And I _will_."

"Yeah. I'm. Sorry about running off last time, too," he mumbled after a few long moments.

She shook her head, smoothed herself out and sat primly. "It's all right. I was prying." Took a deep shaky breath, let it out, brought up a brittle, earnest smile. "I guess I just..." Gods, how could she even admit this, what even were the words? "I get upset, when people don't take me seriously, because I'm young or a girl or..."

He shook his head. "That's your right."

She just looked at him in confusion.

"No, really, it is." He scratched the back of his head. "Hell, I'd be a hypocrite if I said otherwise, nobody took me seriously when I was a kid, and after a while it just started pissing me off."

"Really? Why? Aren't you from a powerful family?"

"Sure, doesn't mean I wasn't..." He huffed. " _Prying_."

She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Expectations I wasn't meeting and all," he said, flapping a hand. "Aren't you gonna make tea?"

Right. Tea. At least she got the fire lit without incident this time.

"I shouldn't be surprised that I messed up. I dunno, I guess I'm. New. To having a decent rivalry." He was mumbling, sounded almost sheepish. "Always wanted one, had the guy picked out and everything, but it...never really happened. Always wound up too bloody to be anything like the real thing. Guess I went overboard in the other direction."

"Mr. Mori?" she asked. He made an odd choking noise, looked away with a dull flush on his face.

"How the hell did you..."

"Mr. Date said something like that."

" _Mr. Date_ talks too much," Motochika grumbled.

"No, he just talks funny," Tsuruhime said lightly, and carefully straightened out the utensils. "I...like fighting for fun. I didn't think I would, but, well. You are not allowed to say that you told me so. And I like being able to trust that you won't destroy me."

"Yeah." He swallowed. "That's a damn good thing to have."

"Just..."

"Take you seriously?"

"Mm." She smiled, brighter now. "And don't worry about the other thing, it's not like I've had even a bad rival before. So let's do our best!"

That startled an answering smile out of him. Not even a very toothy one. "Sure! You'd better get ready."

"Oh, I will!"

The air cleared; the guilty hunch of his shoulders loosened. "What's got you in a hurry today, anyway?" he asked after a few quiet moments.

"A hurry? Oh..." She took a breath, fussed with her sleeves for a moment, then sat very straight. "I'm sailing out too, in the next few days--my generals are organizing matters, so I have a little time to relax, but after that..."

He frowned. "Sailing where? To battle?"

"To talk, I hope. But we have to be ready for battle if that doesn't work. I'm sailing to Satsuma, I need to see Mr. Shimazu."

He sputtered. "You're picking a fight with the _Beast_? Hell, why?"

"I'm following a vision. Granted to me by the gods and a great spirit just two days ago."

"And how important is it?"

She looked down at the table. Delicately straightened the tea scoop one hair closer to perfect. Looked back up. "I'm staking my life on it."

His eye widened. "Your _life_..."

"I have a chance. It'll leave me weak to another attack, but I trust my shipmates to help protect me from that. But even if I didn't...I'm going to prevent a war, a huge one. I can't turn my back on that."

He was silent for a long, long moment, jaw tight, face dark. And then slowly bowed his head. "And I can't begrudge you that. Damn it. Just come the hell back, I'll be pissed if I lose a good rival after finally finding one."

She couldn't help a smile that nearly crumpled her whole face. "Such language in the tea-room, Sir Chosokabe!"

"Dear gods, girl, you sound like my mother, hold your tongue!"

" _What_? First I'm a child, now I'm your _mother_? You're a terrible man!"

He laughed, toothy. "The Demon Pirate himself, y'know!"

"Obnoxious!"

"Snobby!"

"Thief!"

"Kidnapper!"

"You did it first!"

The rattling lid of the kettle startled them both. Tsuruhime squeaked--oh, she had never, _never_ messed up that bad. "Oh, now look what you made me do!"

"I didn't make you do anything!"

"Ugh!" She blew out the flame, quickly, then gathered herself and breathed. Remembered her proper posture, just so, opened the tea jar and scooped the powder into the bowl with measured grace, her fingers perfectly cocked. Adjusted her sleeves, poured the water, whisked. He awaited the tea in reasonably gracious silence, but there was still that damn grin tugging at his face.

She watched the thick sludge clinging to the prongs of the whisk drip back into the tea bowl, and said, quietly, "You could come with me."

"Come with you?" he echoed, voice low. "To Satsuma?"

She gave him a sweet, brittle smile. "Like you said. We make a good team." Gods, why was she even asking him? He had even less reason to accept than she did, it's not like he wanted to avoid war.

"I've got men in Chugoku already. My vanguard." His face darkened; for a moment, he looked almost desperate. "And they're on their beam-ends right now, I gotta catch up and bail them out. Sorry."

She caught a breath, remembered name after name carved into that stone. He'd already lost so many. She bowed her head, gracious, and offered him the bowl of tea carefully cupped in both hands.

"I can't begrudge you that either. It's all right."

He took it; for a moment, his huge hands framed hers. Bowed, and took his formal guest's sip of tea, and closed his eye for a moment to savor it. "My compliments. Haah, here's where I'm probably supposed to discern what fancy brew you've got and from where, but I was never very good at that part."

"Well, it's, ah. Not as fancy as it could be. It's..."

"Hard to get good tea on Shikoku."

She laughed, raised her cupped hands to receive the bowl as he passed it back.

"What's the attack from the rear you're expecting?"

She sighed. Took a moment to sip herself, as was proper, even if it was about the only nod to the real ritual that either of them had managed. "It's Takakage-kun."

"The little squirt?" he hissed. "Doesn't know when to leave well enough alone, does he...hell. Any idea where he is?"

"I don't know exactly where, but he's building some sort of machine. Somewhere in Tosa Bay."

"The nerve of him!" Motochika bared his teeth. "That's deep behind my lines, he must have some serious cover. I'll send word to the home guard. Maybe m'boys can root him out and save us both some trouble, I can have 'em smash what he's building and stash him somewhere until we both get home."

"Oh--that would be wonderful, thank you so much!"

He scratched the back of his head. "Eh, no big deal. I owe you for last time he messed with us, after all."

"Uncle Michinao is going to be looking for him too, with some of my shipmates..."

"I'll pass on word and make sure none of m'boys mess with him."

"Thank you!"

"I owe you a better duel, after all. Gotta make sure you're still around for it."

"You'd better be there too, once you're done in Chugoku." He _had_ better, gods; her heart clenched a little to even think that he might not come back. "Full out this time."

"Full out. Promise."

Tsuruhime smiled, almost sad, almost fond. "Dummy."


	12. In Which the Beast Roars his Challenge for the Future of All

The journey to Satsuma, at least, was swift and uneventful. Tsuruhime and Motochika parted with grace as he jetted back to his ship; the fleet assembled without a hitch, and she clung to Uncle Michinao for a long long while as he left, and danced to bless their journey as they lifted anchor away from Iyo's shores. Naomasa was a brightly smiling bundle of nerves as they sailed, poring over any news from Michinao's division with painstaking care. The men were keyed up, on edge. Tsuruhime herself drilled for hours with her bow, hours more in prayer, and fired arrow after sacred arrow hoping for more insight into Takakage's plans.

None came. Every morning, Naomasa's jaw tightened at that report.

Still they sailed, with a strong and favorable wind. They looped south, father out than before keeping their distance from the shores of Otomo territory--the extra time would be more than worth avoiding a possible battle with the unpredictable Xavists, Naomasa had said, poring over his maps. A few of their patrol ships scudded by in the distance, bright and unmistakable with their golden railings and their rainbow flags, but none came close. Nothing else did either. The ocean here was far more open than the Seto Sea that Tsuruhime called her home, with few ships and even fewer islands; unmarked by land, the southwest horizon bent as gently as an unstrung bow. It glittered, overwhelmingly vast, and Tsuruhime perched on high railings and stared out at the tremendous expanse of wild sea with a strange fluttering in her heart.

But it was over the other railing, landward, that she spotted one thing out of place, squinting into the distance with her clear, clear sight. A small ship, plain and unmarked, but with the tall sides of a warship, not a fishing boat at all. She fell like a feather to the deck to find Naomasa and his spy-glass.

"Do you think it's one of the ones Mr. Date saw?"

Naomasa squinted, brushed strands of hair out of his face as he peered through the glass. "She has no markings, it's true...no flags at all. And she's been in pitched battle, there's cannon scars on her hull." He stroked his chin, handed her the spy-glass. "Those are wide marks on her hull, and the Sea Devil uses the largest-bore cannons of anyone. Shall we give chase?"

She bit her lip and shook her head, peering through for a closer look. "No. I can't let myself get distracted now...oh! Look, there's another ship coming up alongside, one of Mr. Otomo's."

And so they watched, passing the glass back and forth, as the two boats threw across ropes and a ramp, as a few large crates were carefully unloaded. Even through the glass, they could barely see the little figures from this far, but there was no battle, no piracy.

"Passing on cargo," Naomasa murmured. "Not a large one, but important enough to send a whole ship for...Little Crane, your eyes are better than mine, can you see any of the people?"

She pouted behind the spy-glass. "No, just little black blobs. Some of them with funny hats."

"Ah, well. Still...Otomo forces are raiding the Sea Devil...? That's odd. Though...hn. I've heard young lord Sorin has a fondness for mechanical devices, perhaps he's trying to get ahold of Chosokabe's toys."

"That would make sense, yes." She put the glass down and rubbed her eyes. "I wish I could send him a letter about it..."

"I'll see what I can do--we do have messenger pigeons. You do realize that's valuable information for him, Little Crane...?"

Tsuruhime laughed. "I suppose so! Well, he can owe me, I'll make him pay next time we meet."

* * *

Past the Otomo patrols, the seas around Satsuma were blue, sparkling, and eerily empty. So was the shore, when it finally reared up, vivid green and palm-lined and peaceful. "Deceptively peaceful," Naomasa murmured, as he swept his spy-glass up and down its length. "The Beast loves his ambushes."

"Still hard to ambush us at sea." Tsuruhime was perched on the very tip of the prow, hands on her hips, standing proud in the warm southern winds. "Look for someplace to drop anchor, and arrange the fleet defensively as we've prepared! If he's already planning an ambush, then he'll be nearby, and we can meet him today."

And sure enough, it wasn't long until they dropped anchor, near a small fishing dock with nets and drying racks at hand. Empty. The jungle was still and silent as the landing parties clambered out of their longboats--some assembling behind her, more waiting as a backup squadron at the landing point, and all with weapons undrawn, simply waiting.

A wide, well-worn path led inland from the dock, and Tsuruhime settled her unstrung bow over her shoulder, looked reassuringly to Naomasa--standing as her right hand in full armor, handsome and glittering in Iyokono sunset reds and bearing a tall standard, and the --and began the march. The path split; Tsuruhime could just glimpse houses through the trees on one side, and chose the other, tracking deeper into the woods. The place thrummed with life, and she felt herself smiling fondly in spite of everything. The trees, the wildly singing birds, the puffs and dips of branches that meant monkeys playing high above--any other day she would gladly honor them all. But now, she marched, until instinct made her spine tingle and her feet halt. She held up a hand to Naomasa.

"Little Crane...?" he murmured.

"He's here," she whispered in answer. "I can feel it." She drew a breath and raised her voice, loud and clear as she could. "Honorable Sir Shimazu Yoshihiro of Satsuma! I, Tsuruhime of Oyamazumi Shrine and her floating sanctuary, seek audience! Please pardon my intrusion, I swear upon my shrine that I do not come to invade, only to speak with you and implore you to find peace in your heart!"

For a few long, long moments, all she could hear in answer was her own voice echoing through the trees.

Then a braying, bellowing laugh rang out.

"Peace, eh? That's a funny thing to come all the way down here for, missie."

"He's coming," Naomasa hissed, and his free hand crept closer to the hilt of his sword in spite of himself. Tsuruhime felt her heart speed up, put her hand gently over his, and then stepped forward. Stood with her bow still unstrung over her shoulder, wide open and calm as she could.

The ground shook like thunder, and in a cloud of dust, he was there, dropped out of a tree with surprising agility. Shimazu the Beast spread one arm wide, his other hand propping his enormous sawblade sword over his shoulder, and grinned a broad toothy grin.

"Haah, it really is the little missie who came to punish me last season. How you been doin'?"

"Quite well!" She folded her hands and bowed. "And you?"

He patted the thick rope that circled his solid belly, the sake jug swinging from it. "Happy as a clam in thick mud. So what's all this implorin' for?"

She drew a breath--clear-minded and serene, she could do this, she was meant to do this. "I've received a vision, Sir Shimazu. I know of your plans to expand your territory, and I know where they will lead. I've come to stop you, and so I beg you, in all earnestness, call off your war."

The grin vanished from his face, and the furrow in his brow was dark and stormy indeed. He simply looked at her for a long, long moment, his mouth a deep frown amidst his beard. She looked back, unyielding.

"A vision," he said heavily. "I see. Where does it lead, then?"

"To chaos and death, and great sorrow for all. In truth, I cannot yet say whether you would be the victor in the end, or whether someone else would supplant you. But I know that either way, you would lose yourself in it. And for both your sake and the country's, I can't let that happen."

His eyes narrowed. He stalked closer, footsteps thunderous on the worn jungle path, and looked her up and down. She could feel Naomasa's tension prickling behind her, the barely contained alarm of her men. Eyes on them from the forest, no telling how many. She held the Beast's gaze without wavering.

Until he burst out into laughter and she nearly squeaked with surprise. "Wahahahaha! Oh, your fightin' spirit's grown since you came this way last, I like it! If the kids these days are even sending little girls to war, better it's one with fire in her eyes. Your visions are tellin' you to have it out with me again--c'mon, then! Show me what you've learned in your battles since, young 'un!"

Well, from what she knew of the Beast, it wasn't _too_ surprising that it had come to this. She took a deep breath and lifted her bow off her shoulder. "Without hesitation, Sir Shimazu! And if I defeat you here, please take that as an omen that the path of peace should prevail!"

He laughed cheerfully. Slid the giant sword off his shoulder to stand it in the earth like a tree, breaking the dirt with a crunch far louder than even Motochika's anchor. "Oh, don't you worry about that, missie! Show me a good fight, one on one! Then we talk about your funny vision business."

"It's not funny!"

"Sure is from where I'm standing. Seems you're better at seeing the past than the future. Maybe 'cause for an old man like me, the past's a lot bigger."

She felt her brow furrow. "What...?"

"Oh, don't y'dare hesitate!" The Beast roared, brandished his sword, and she wrapped a hand tight around her bow on sheer instinct. "Whatever you saw, you're gonna fight for it, here and now!"

"Little Crane," Naomasa murmured, tense.

She had already accepted; there was no turning back. "Please give us room, Naomasa," she said brightly, and heard the shuffle of feet as her shipmates cleared space. She strung her bow and bowed again. Goodness, he really did seem so friendly and content, in his growly way--it was hard to imagine he was close to losing himself. And what could he possibly he mean about seeing the past and not the future...?

No, no, she didn't have time to think about this right now. She had to trust Lady Himiko and focus. If Shimazu the Beast himself was fighting full out, she would need every ounce of her strength to win. It had been a hard enough fight the first time, and then he'd yielded easily and not had the thunderous dark shadow in his eye that he did now. She raised an arrow to the string, rocked forward on her toes ready to leap and dodge--she couldn't risk taking a blow, not from that sword wielded in earnestness, not ever.

The sword that he now raised to the sky, its scarred and worn sawteeth glinting in the bright southern sun. And the Beast's roar shook the ground beneath her feet, and his charge was far faster than before, and she faced him with slender arrows and a prayer, with the fate of the whole country at stake.

"Don't you go running from the Jigen Style now, girl!"

Shimazu the Beast charged like thunder, bulling through a hail of pink arrows, and his first blow fell far, far closer than Tsuruhime would have liked. Electricity crackled along her skin as she leapt backwards, spinning high into the air to escape his blade, firing a spray of arrows as she landed. Stagger him, dodge, hold her distance--always her best chance with the big strong ones--and for a moment, the light drove him back a step, left him gasping, and then he shook himself like an angry dog--

His very roar congealed in the air like a wall of force, and she skidded backwards in dirt and fallen leaves, gasping as it hit her, stunned, ears ringing. Enough time for him to close the distance with a leaping swing, missing her by a hair as she threw herself sideways, rolled, jumped back on her feet with a dancer's grace. She could dodge, she could survive, but with barely a window to attack--she skipped sideways to avoid a blow that came crashing down from overhead, lost ground to a sweeping arc from side to side. It had been months since she'd had time for intensive practice with Onigiri-sensei, but it was coming back. There were only so many moves he could make with a sword that huge, she was pretty sure, he couldn't twirl it like Motochika would twirl his anchor--and sure enough, back it came, the great blade level with the ground for a sidesweep.

She jumped. Not high. Just enough to land lightly on the Beast's sword blade, far wider than a ship's railing under her feet, and she had an arrow nocked in midair to spear him with a burst of vivid pink light.

It barely staggered him. And before she had another arrow on the string, he'd heaved around with a savage roar, faster than she could have imagined. Her feet skidded off the blade. She squawked, tumbled head over heels in midair, but she could land this, she could always land perfectly--

"Try this on for size!"

She didn't land. Not before he roared and swung again. The back of the blade, a hand's breadth of solid steel, cracked across her ribs and drove the breath from her body, flinging her like a limp rag into the jungle. She crashed through a tangle of breaking branches and thorns, shrieking, slammed into a tree trunk with a crackle of snapping wood. Pain hammered through her ribs as she slid to the ground, scratched raw and clutching her bow, tried to breathe. The world swam for a moment; bells rang in her ears; she was at the bottom of a dark tunnel...

Naomasa's frightened voice in the distance.

"It's a duel, boy, if you honor her, keep clear. Kid! If you've decided to wager me chilling my ass in Satsuma on this fight, you'd better give it your all!"

"I didn't say anything about your posterior," she whimpered. The world turned right side up, settled; the ringing in her ears faded. The tunnel was the hole opened in the jungle thicket by her own body, like a whirlwind had punched through. The Beast stood at the mouth of it, light behind him, face in deep shadow as he pulled the jug off his belt and drank deep. She clawed at the tree trunk, scrabbled her bleeding legs under her, dragged herself to her feet. Pawed for an arrow and pulled out splintered wood. Her quiver was crushed. Broken feathers in her hand. Her mind felt blank, spinning.

He raised his sword, spat blue lightning over the blade, and it crackled blinding bright across the jagged teeth of the sword. She could _feel_ the power of it, even from twenty feet away where she'd been thrown; the Beast's battle aura was rampant, burning like nothing she'd ever felt, heavy as boulders against her senses.

For a moment, she swayed where she stood, and then second wind hit her like purifying water as pain dulled and the world became terribly, terribly clear. There was no choice. She had to win.

"Haah, there you go, girl. You've finally got the right look in your eyes, now let's see how you fight!"

She gathered her battle aura and wiped blood out of her eyes. And watched him, very calmly, as he raised his sword. Loosed the knot that held her quiver with one hand and let it drop.

The wood of her arrows was only a vessel, after all. Only a shell within which greater power could form. When her bowstring loosed, it fired arrows of light.

She reached out her hand, seized a twig of Satsuma's jungle, and raised it. Only a vessel. Only a bit of wood; honed and pointed or no, the spirit within it was the same. For this was a strong, peaceful forest. The twig bloomed to a great shining pink arrow in her hand, and as she held it out and spun, it divided, left a circle of divine arrows fanned around her body.

"Hooh, that's your answer? This secret attack of the Jigen Style will kill anyone it touches in an instant, you know! Even with the very wind from my blade, for it is the breath of the chaos and death of my past!"

She held her bow neatly with both hands, and bowed. "I understand!" And straightened, posed, threw off a sparkle and a heart with a wink. "This is my answer, Sir Shimazu, and the answer of the forest you call home! Come at me!"

For a moment, he was still, the thundering blade held high over his head. Then his roar shook the jungle. The great sword feel like a cleaver blade, tearing up the earth, and lightning crashed with the unfettered force of his will, and the wave of force splintered tree trunks and stirred a storm of dying leaves in its wake. It hit her like a hurricane wind, crackling all along her skin, and all she could do was whisper a prayer.

Shining, translucent arrows flared and disappeared, absorbing the massive, fatal force of his attack as readily as a good clean sacred rope would absorb impurity. Leaving behind nothing. She stood in the broken jungle, untouched; echoes faded, the Beast heaved his sword out of the earth, and the world became very, very quiet.

Quiet enough that she heard a strange rumbling in the distance. And the occasional loud, shuddering bang. And a low wail, rising and falling. The Beast cocked his head slightly, shook dirt off his sword and heaved it back over his shoulder. And laughed, one dusty thump of his fist on his thigh.

"Nice trick! You know why I live in this land so comfortably now, I'd imagine. Now, you gonna take that for the sign it is and realize your vision was wrong, or should we keep at this? 'Cause we're about to have company."

She felt her mouth drop open. Was she still dizzy from being smashed through the forest? Had she even heard him right? "They--they're--they're _never_ wrong, Sir Shimazu! How _could_ they be?"

"Step aside," he growled. The rumbling and banging was getting closer, but she barely even noticed it--it just sounded like distant thunder as her heart pounded.

"What do you mean, Sir Shimazu? That vision of all visions--from Lady Himiko herself--it couldn't possibly be wrong!"

"In a moment, kiddo, just step--"

Something hit her from behind. Something iron hard, and huge, and moving very fast, and suddenly deafeningly loud. Dusty, choking wind swept her up with it, and she rolled head over heels in a blur of jostling pain, her bow flying out of her hands. And kept rolling. Squeezed her eyes shut with a wail as the world turned over and over around her. Somebody else wailing right along with her, a man, beleaguered.

"Why does this always happen to meeeeeee!"


	13. In Which Two Black-Winged Heralds Bring a Moment of Solace

"Why does this always happen to meeeeeee!"

Tsuruhime rolled, bent backwards over unforgiving iron and tumbled head over heels, face full of jungle dirt and buffeting wind, trapped and battered and reeling. Too shocked to even think clearly for a moment, to figure out what was even happening to her, but it had to be--it had to be--

" _Kanbei_!" the Beast bellowed from somewhere far away and upside-down, and something crunched, and the world stopped spinning. Even if up and down were still entirely unclear. Her shipmates clamored for her, and their voices seemed far, far away. Tsuruhime peeled off the giant ball with a stunned whine, slid to the ground in a puddle. Kuroda Kanbei rolled off the other side with a groan and a clatter of chain, and found his feet far more easily.

"You again," he growled. "Didn't learn your lesson the first time, brat?"

"Excuse me?" Tsuruhime mumbled at the spinning sky, distantly. "Didn't I beat _you_ up?"

"Yeah, well, looks like your luck's turned around, hasn't it?" She heard the clatter of chain. "You got no business here, get packing before we slit your--"

"Kanbei, sit your ass down!" The Beast's bellow cut through Kanbei's growling. "She's got business with me."

"Damn it, you crazy old man, weren't we supposed to protect Kyushu together?"

"Open your eyes! This ain't an invasion."

Tsuruhime slowly sat up, head pounding, and pawed around in the dust. Oh, there was her bow--far out of reach. If only they would keep arguing long enough for her to get it...

"Get away from Little Crane, wretch!" Naomasa's voice, thin with fear and anger. "This is between her and Sir Shimazu!"

"You gonna make this a fight? You gonna kick us around for the shits while you're down here? 'Cause no outsiders are gonna fuck with Kyushu, plain and simple!"

"Kanbei," the Beast muttered.

"So _rude_ ," Tsuruhime breathed, still struggling to catch her breath.

"This is a peace mission!" She could hear Naomasa coming closer--he was behind her. She struggled to get her legs under her. Her bow, she needed her bow, with that she could stop the lumbering fellow with a single twig if he forced her hand... "We came under flags of truce!"

"Sure, so you can drop 'em and stab us in the back. I know your kind, pretty boy. And sorry, I can't help it, that just pisses me off. I'm just gonna have to do something about it."

" _Stop!_ " Tsuruhime clawed her way to her knees, shrieked as loud as she could. "Naomasa, back off, show him we mean it!"

"Like hell I'm gonna listen to a little girl!"

" _Kanbei_!"

"What, you gonna turn on me too, Yoshihiro? I shoulda known!"

"Little Crane, you're wounded, let me--!"

Her bow dropped into her lap. She squeaked, clutched it tight, shook the last waves of dizziness out of her head and looked around in confusion. Naomasa and the Beast had both been far from it, all focus on her and Kanbei. "How..."

A black feather drifted down after the bow. Two. A crow circled the clearing, cawing. But the feathers were far larger than any bird's, and soft as dusk...

"My Twilight Ninja!" she yelped, lurching to her feet. All three men whipped heads around to stare at her.

"What--"

"--the hell--"

"-- _here_? Where?"

The crow dove, cawing loud as any of them, and Tsuruhime shrieked and staggered backwards, waving her bow at it--oh she hated flappy clawing things in her face. "Not another bat--no, go away--!" Kanbei was laughing at her, she was pretty sure. The Beast muttering something she could quite make out. But the crow didn't go for her face, just landed on her shoulder with a croak.

"Scared of birds, huh," Kanbei gloated.

"Shut _up_." She pouted up at them all, clutched her bow. "He gave me my bow, he must be here--"

A puff of smoke and black feathers, and there he was, appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the four of them, arms folded elegantly across his chest. Tsuruhime felt her heart hammering against her ribs, rooted to the spot.

"So you're her Twilight Ninja," Naomasa murmured, staring. "On behalf of all of Iyokono, then--thank you for saving our Little Crane."

"Huh," Kanbei said slowly. "Funny seeing you again. Don't suppose I can count on you giving me a hand this time, can I?"

The Beast gave the Twilight Ninja a long, considering look, and laughed. "You again! I haven't seen you since I was a bloody-minded lad, and you don't look one bit different. What're you up to now, I wonder?"

Tsuruhime stared at him for a moment, utterly lost. Since the Beast was a boy? That must have been _years_ ago--

\--the Twilight Ninja's hand fell on her free shoulder, and all thought of such things fell out of her head with a rush of excitement. She could feel her heart pounding, her entire belly turned to butterflies, couldn't even find _words_ for a moment as the world vanished into a pink haze of love, and music started playing in the distance, and she reached one hand up for him, yearning--

\--only to touch neatly folded paper as he vanished in a puff of smoke and the pink light faded. Another puff, and he reappeared a few feet away, between her and Kanbei, still as a statue.

"Th-thank you..." she breathed, throat tight, clutching the letter he'd given her very tight.

"Oh, this is rich," Kanbei muttered.

"Don'tmockamaiden'slove!" she shrieked, and then clamped her mouth shut, stuck her chin in the air, and opened her letter.

_Dearest and Honored Oracle,_

_My thanks again for your vision concerning the revival of the Hojo Clan. It has served us most favorably, and it was lovely to meet you. If it suits you, I would impose upon you to be my guest in Odawara Castle, even if only for a day. My health continues to fade and I do not know when I might travel again, and it has been a long time since the castle has been graced by a priestess of your skill and good heart. The man who delivers this letter could transport you there and back the twinkling of an eye, if you so desire. I hope to see you soon._

_In deepest respect,_

_Hojo Ujimasa_

Uncle Ujimasa...? He'd been such a sweet old fellow, when he'd come to petition for that vision. But how could she visit now, with everything else going on, no matter how nice it would be? And--and what he'd said about the man who delivered the letter--

She reeled for a moment. And looked up at the Twilight Ninja with her heart leaping into her mouth. "You...you know Uncle Ujimasa?" She hadn't even thought of trying to find him since the vision of Lady Himiko, all this time it had been like chasing a daydream, and now--now, when she'd least expected it, she could fly with him to his castle, learn his name, everything she'd ever wanted...

"Of course he does, you _idiot_ ," Kanbei groaned. "The weirdo's the Hojo's pet ninja, how the hell could you not know that?"

"You're ruining the moment!" she shrieked, rounding on him. "Don't you _dare_ call him that! He's not a weirdo, he's perfect!"

"So girls like creepy guys who never talk or show their face." She could only guess he was rolling his eyes under his bangs. Mostly she was trying not to even _look_ at him, he was being so crude. "Go figure. No wonder I've never had any luck with women."

"Ewww! You're the creepy one!"

"Don't talk to Little Crane like that," Naomasa snapped.

"Don't come swanning into our land and tell us what to do," Kanbei growled.

"Little Crane, do we _really_ have time for this?" Naomasa asked, almost plaintive.

Mr. Shimazu slowly lowered the jug he'd been enjoying at length, wiping droplets off his beard. "What about your other visitor, kid?"

She blinked. "My other...what?"

The bat thing--this one was even black, she was almost entirely sure it was a bat--shifted from leg to leg and cawed. The Twilight Ninja pointed two gloved fingers at the creature's left foot. Squinting, she finally saw it--a strip of paper, blackened and rough on the outside, was coiled round its leg and tied neatly. "A...another letter? For me?"

He was motionless, silent. The crow cawed loudly. She carefully untied the letter, trying not to hurt the bird, and it waited patiently, as still as the ninja by her side. And squinted at tiny, tiny characters.

_Oracle: I've recently come across an old priest in distress and a sullen young shinobi who's too close-mouthed for his own good. I believe both of them are yours. Please come collect them at your earliest convenience._

It was signed only with miniature stamp of the three-legged crow. Where had she seen that before...?

"Big sis Magoichi!" she blurted. "Uncle Michinao? But...how? What's going on?"

The only answer the crow gave her was a caw as it took off from her shoulder with a rush of wind in her ear. The Twilight Ninja stood motionless, his head inclined ever-so-slightly in her direction, as the crow vanished over the trees. Oh, she was so confused, all she wanted to do was fall into his arms...

"I...I have to go to Saica Magoichi's house. But I want to see Uncle Ujimasa too, if I can! And I still have to make sure things here are okay..."

Naomasa edged closer, warily eyeing Kanbei. "Little Crane...?"

She handed him both letters, hands a little fumbly. He scanned them quick as lightning, and his eyes widened. "Uncle...at least the boy won't be a problem anymore, thank goodness..."

"Oh, don't you worry about me, missie," the Beast called. He'd planted his sword in the ground and was leaning on it, drinking deep from his jug. "I ain't planning anything. Haha, sure, I know you got no reason to believe me, but that's not my problem."

Gods, what was she supposed to do with all this at once? She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and focused. Wiped the blood off her face and rubbed her eyes. Then turned and walked calmly towards him, bow over her shoulder, mostly steady on her feet.

"My vision showed that soon you would march forth, if I did not come to Satsuma. Perhaps you had not yet decided or planned anything, but would in short order, and if I've slandered you in my assumptions, I apologize." She bowed deep.

"Haah, don't you worry."

She straightened, ignored the world sliding a little sideways. "But I came to Satsuma as it said, and so now I must trust in both my vision and your words. May I leave you in peace, Sir Shimazu?"

"Aye." He waved a heavy hand at his--ally, apparently? Hadn't Lady Himiko said he'd conquered Kanbei's lands? "You heard us, Kanbei, she's leaving without trouble."

Kanbei sat heavily on his ball, grumbling. "Sure. Whatever. Don't think I won't be keeping an eye on you self-righteous bastards on your way out the door."

The Beast looked back at her, face very serious for a moment. "And come back someday, if you ever want to hear an old man's rambles. You aren't as far off the mark as you could be, girl, but I'm doin' my atonement now, and I'm not aiming to raise any more hell."

She felt so very, very lost. But she had to believe this had come out all right, didn't she? "All right. Thank you, Sir Shimazu."

He laughed, pounded a fist once against his chest. "No need to thank me for holdin' off on something I wasn't going to do. But that was an interestin' fight, I'll call it thanks enough. Now go see to your business before it gets older than me. Go on, git."

"Goodbye, then!" She looked over at Kanbei for a moment, and sullenly added, "and to you."

"Good riddance," he bit out.

"And to you," she hissed under her breath.

Naomasa hustled her away from them without further ado, pulled out a clean cloth to wipe the blood and dirt off her face. "Little Crane, Little Crane, gods, I'm glad you're all right..."

She brought up the brightest smile she could, even as her head spun. "I'll be fine. The gods were watching over me, I knew that would turn out okay." Well. She hadn't _known_ so much as decided that it had to, but that was more or less the same thing, right?

"Will you...be going to Odawara?" he asked, sounding almost nervous.

"I...can I?"

"I could set sail for the Saica stronghold, but if he drops you back here, then how will you get home..."

She took a few deep breaths, felt the ache in her ribs start in earnest now that the heat of battle was over. "I..."

She blinked around. Where even was he? No, there he was, keeping pace with them, half-masked face as gallantly inscrutable as always. "Could you drop me off at big sis Magoichi's place after I visit? Please?"

He inclined his head, ever so slight.

"Oh, thank you, thank you..." The moment Naomasa was done fussing, she dropped back to hover near him. Didn't quite dare touch him--what if he disappeared again?

"I'll--meet you there, then?" Naomasa said, sounding harried.

"Yes, of course..."

The Twilight Ninja held out his hand. No letter, no pretext, just his smooth-gloved palm, offered to her. She reached out, hesitant, breathless. His grip was firm, his body cool as the night, and almost the moment she took his hand, he swept her off his feet and--into his arms.

"Little Crane, let me at least--" Naomasa blurted.

He was holding her. He was holding her cradled in his strong arms, silent and perfect as a moonlit evening, and she shivered all over and there was nothing else in the whole world. _Kyaaaaa_ came from far away, almost like she was hearing somebody else say it--she was too breathless to say anything, wasn't she? Her ribs clenched with pain as her heart pounded. The world went pink, then red, then black in a wash of smoke as they lifted off the ground light as feathers, and she swooned dead away in his arms.

* * *

Tsuruhime woke with smooth sweet incense hanging on the air and her head pillowed on something soft. She mumbled and pawed, found herself under a clean sheet, lying on a comfortable pallet in slanting afternoon light coming through a high castle window. The room was large, tastefully decorated, ancient; a pale blue banner showed the triple triangles of the Hojo Clan.

Right. Her Twilight Ninja was going to take her to Odawara Castle...

She sat bolt upright, groaned as her ribs ached--at least the pain had dulled quite a bit. "Uncle Ujimasa? My Twilight Ninja?"

"Oh!" Hojo Ujimasa, perched on a thick cushion and leaning against the wall like he'd been dozing off himself, startled and creaked upright. "Young lady Oracle, you're awake, I'm glad."

She rubbed her eyes, got her legs under her to sit properly and bowed. "Thank you so much for taking care of me. May I ask how long...?"

"Ah..." He squinted out the window. "No more than an hour, I think. I'd no idea you'd been to battle again! Goodness. A young lady like you should take care of herself. My doctor seemed to think you had just been run over by a large ball on top of being in battle, I don't know where on earth he got that idea, but he said you needed a little rest, and gave you some medicine."

She laughed. "Actually, it was just that. He must be a very good doctor! Give him my thanks, Uncle Ujimasa?"

"Of course, of course. Come down to the courtyard if you're feeling better, the flowers are doing very nicely. Battle makes one hungry, I'll have something sent out for us."

"Gladly!" She wobbled to her feet, smoothed her skirt down, and came over to give Ujimasa a hand up.

"Oh, thank you...such a sweet girl..."

She steadied him; he took hold one of her elbows to steer her towards the door, and they both pretended very well that they weren't leaning on each other. She _was_ glad to see him again. They'd only met briefly when he came to ask for her vision, but they'd gotten along so well. He reminded her of Uncle Michinao sometimes, more than a little--maybe that was why she was so comfortable around him. "May I ask, Uncle Ujimasa...the ninja who brought me here..." Her heart stirred, quivering in anticipation just to finally ask this question. "What is his name?"

"His name? Oh! Fuuma!" He waved his other arm at thin air, and in a puff of smoke, there he was. She gasped, felt herself light up so quickly that she trailed sparkles all down Uncle Ujimasa's clothes. "Fuuma Kotarou, the finest shinobi in the land! It's by his strength most of all that the Hojo clan endures, oh, I can't believe I forgot to introduce him..."

"Fuuma...Kotarou..." At last, at _last_ she knew his name. She whispered it, slow, each syllable like a delicious treat. And ducked his head. "Finally, I can call you by your name, my Twilight Ninja!"

"Oh, do you know each other?" Uncle Ujimasa's voice seemed so distant. So was his cool, crinkled-paper hand patting her elbow.

"Fuuma Kotarou, thank you, thank you so much! For saving me, for watching over me! I love you from the bottom of my heart!" She bowed, twirled closer to him--oh, she could almost cry from happiness now, she blessed the fortune that brought her here, swelling music guided her feet--

Uncle Ujimasa, unseated, toppled into her side with a hoarse squawk. And sent her tumbling to the floor with an entirely ladylike squawk of her own. She whined, ribs twinging, and rolled over slowly to see her Twilight Ninja--Kotarou--neatly setting Ujimasa back on his feet with one strong arm. And when he was done with that, he held out a hand to her, silent as always, and her belly turned flip-flops as she reached for it. "Th-thank you..."

Uncle Ujimasa twirled his little beard around a fingertip, his smile mischievous. "Oh, I see, I see..."

Her face heated in a vivid flush as Kotarou smoothly lifted her to her feet. "Uncle..."

"No need to look worried, dear girl! It's always lovely to see young people so happy." He annexed Tsuruhime's elbow again, gestured for Kotarou to fall in. "Now come, come, both of you, while the sun is still high enough to light the courtyard..."

* * *

The meal was exquisite, the garden even more so, and she barely even noticed either of them. How could she have expected, when she grimly set forth to fight the Beast, that she'd find herself here, flower petals wafting by, in the company of her Twilight Ninja himself, with his name now engraved upon her heart? He sat cross-legged, still and graceful as a mountain on the horizon, but so close she could reach out and touch him if she wanted; he didn't vanish, he stayed right there, and she could barely keep her eyes off him. The tooled leather of his armor, the way his sleeve clung to his arm, the twisted cotton of his helmet ties digging ever so slightly into his cheeks. The streaks of red on his face, seeming more like tattoos than fresh paint now that she had the chance to look at him, really look at him...

"Have some of the pickles too, dear, they're a special recipe that's been in the family for generations."

"Oh! Yes, of course...ah, they're delicious. Do you want some, K...may I call you Kotarou?"

He tilted his head, ever so slightly, didn't reach for the bowl she offered.

"Ah, don't worry, he's like that," Uncle Ujimasa said, waving a hand. "I don't think I've ever seen him eat in all the years he's served us. It's part of his mystique."

"So much mystique," she said, a bit of an awkward laugh as she set the bowl back down. "How...many years, if I may ask?"

His brow furrowed for a moment, deep and lined, and then he shrugged. "Oh, long as I can remember, and he hasn't changed one bit. Such is the power of the great ninjas, after all. They aren't limited by space and time as you and I are."

She reeled for a moment, stared back at Kotarou in awe. "Truly...?" But was it really so surprising, with how he could watch over her wherever she roamed, be anywhere in an instant? And what did it matter? She loved a man who neither spoke nor showed his eyes; she already knew this love was strange, unexpected, magical. Time and space meant no more than anything else. She would reach for him, and he would vanish, and that was for the best, and reaching for him was the most wonderful thing in the world, so it didn't matter. It couldn't matter. Could it?

Her hands shook, wrapped around her bowl of rice.

* * *

It was a brief, beautiful, lazy stay in Odawara. After the meal, Kotarou vanished to tend to matters about the castle, and she chattered endlessly with Uncle Ujimasa, even agreed to stay the night. Even at full sail, it would take Naomasa some time to reach Magoichi's place, after all, and there was little to do until then. Takakage couldn't do much under Saica watch, she was sure, and Uncle Michinao would be all right. And to spend even a day under the same roof as her Twilight Ninja, healing her bruised ribs and clearing her mind--it didn't take much for her to give in. Ujimasa implored her to tend to the ancestral shrine within the castle walls and offer her good wishes for the clan, in exchange for an exquisitely crafted quiver and sheath of arrows from his armory, and she accepted the honor readily. Cleansed herself head to toe, worked with humble deference, for it was neither her shrine nor the spirits she knew.

The innermost chamber contained only a memorial tablet, ancient weathered wood, wrapped in fine silk gauze painted with paulownia leaves and set under an exquisite painting of Mount Tate. Long ago, the spirit of some ancient Hojo lord would have been called to rest in the tablet for a time, for honor and farewells, safely away from the well of impurity that was his corpse. Perhaps that spirit still watched from the mountain, as some would over their families. She wafted the thin coating of dust gently away with a fan, not daring to touch such an antique, and hung fresh ropes with tender care, and offered what she could.

But as the sun began to sink, she reluctantly declined Uncle Ujimasa's offers of a longer stay. Uncle Michinao was waiting for her, after all, and she was itching to hear what had happened. At least she was fresh and in fine spirits this time, as Kotarou scooped her to his chest and stepped into shadow; this time she stayed awake, cheeks flushed and heart hammering against her ribs. Not that she could see much. The darkness was profound, gnawing cold, and for a moment she shuddered in raw terror. And though she tried, she _tried_ to speak, she heard nothing--not her bells jingling, not his heartbeat, nothing at all. Only the rush of wind in her face, as if they were moving terribly fast, far faster even than her skating over the sea.

His arms tightened around her, just a little. She struggled to breathe. But--he'd saved her life so many times. She closed her eyes in inky blackness and calmed her heart. For she trusted him. Absolutely.

And then--the world existed again, just like that. Warmer than the courtyard they'd left, smelling of gunpowder and cut wood. Crows cawed as they appeared, sudden, on the well-fortified training grounds before Saica Magoichi's manor, and half a dozen men scattered about looked up as one and raised their rifles.

"Hold," came Magoichi's voice from above.

Kotarou set her down gently, and she caught her breath, head spinning a little, and turned to thank him--

\--he was gone.

She fought back disappointment. He was Fuuma Kotarou in service of the Hojo Clan. She didn't have to search any longer; she knew.

A screen on the second floor of the manor slid open, and Magoichi leaned out, a gun dangling from one hand. "You could've warned me you were coming by the ninja express, Oracle. You're lucky you didn't get shot."

She ducked her head. "Ah, sorry--hello, big sis Magoichi! I didn't quite know how to reach you, your bat flew away before I could write a letter back. Are they both still here? Are they all right?"

"Of course. One's stubbornly waiting to see you, and I've no inclination to let the other go anywhere any time soon." She straightened, tucked the gun away somewhere, and her face hardened a little. "You're certainly relaxed about this ungodly mess. Get in here before the old fellow boils over."

"A mess...? But everything's come out all right--whatever you did, thank you so much--"

The front door burst open, and Uncle Michinao flapped out, hat wobbling. _Limping_. She gasped--one arm was a mass of bandages, and the other clung gamely to a cane. "Little Crane! Little Crane, thank the gods you're here! Are you all right?"

She gasped when she saw him, felt her heart wrench as she ran up--caught herself an inch away from hugging him tight, just put a hand gently over his. "Of course, I'm fine--oh, gods, Uncle, what happened to you?"

"Ambush," he croaked, handing her his cane long enough to put his good arm loosely around her. "Never even came close to Tosa Bay. I sailed right into it like a fool, I'd no reason to expect it from _them_."

"W-what? Who?"

Magoichi strode up behind him, implacable and unhurried as always. "The Otomo navy. I'd wager there's a lot more going on than you realize."

Tsuruhime felt her mouth drop open. "But...but why?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Get inside before you eat any flies. We need to exchange intelligence."

"Exchange...? How? I mean, I'd love to be as smart as you, but--"

"It means 'tell each other everything we know about what's going on.' Come on, kid."


	14. In Which the Cry of the Three-Legged Crow Dispels the Mists of Deception

"You first," Magoichi said after she herded them all into a front room of the mansion, settled them at a table with a map laid out upon it, scrolls and brushes and ink at hand. She nodded to Tsuruhime, her face stern but not unkind. "I heard you shut down an attack from that ninja stewing in my stockade--"

"Is Takakage-kun all right?"

Magoichi arched a brow. "Has a hole in his shoulder from where my men shot him down, but nothing more. Your general told me you wouldn't want him hurt. And honestly, I doubt it would accomplish much. Whoever he's working for, he's more scared of them than he is of me."

"...you're scary?"

Michinao shifted a little. Magoichi actually laughed, low and brief. "I can be."

"But...why do you think he's working for someone?"

"It was obvious enough from how he evaded my questions, even setting aside the fact that he's commanding a small fleet of warships."

"He... _what_?" She was so very, very lost.

"They're unmarked. He's been conducting supply raids on Motochika's territories, the usual sabotage--"

"Those are his?" Tsuruhime squawked. "But they--they were with Mr. Otomo's boats!"

" _What_?" Michinao and Magoichi in unison, one a croak and the other a snap.

"I saw it on the way to Satsuma! There was--"

Magoichi held up a hand. "That's important. But take it from the beginning, Oracle. Unmarked ships, the shinobi brat, any visions including the apparently important one your general here has been rather cryptic about--the first you heard of any of it."

"I--all right." She blinked over at Michinao. "Cryptic...don't you have a copy of it?"

Michinao frowned. "Kept somewhere secret, Little Crane. I--pardon me, Lady Saica," he interjected with a nod. "I wasn't sure how far to trust her."

"Understandable," Magoichi said comfortably. "I'll be back in a moment, I'm going to refresh myself on my network's knowledge of the Otomo."

And she was up and out the door before it occurred to Tsuruhime to protest.

"Gracefully done," Michinao murmured. "Little Crane--"

"She's my friend," she blurted. She barely even knew what was going on anymore, but she knew that much.

"I don't wish to gainsay that, dear, and I'm grateful for her hospitality, but how do you simply become friends with the most ruthless mercenary in the country?"

Tsuruhime took a deep breath to calm herself, and played with the straps of her new quiver, double-knotted to take up the slack--it had been made for a rather larger man. "Remember the night before we got word that Mr. Ishida's troops had disbanded, when we'd all thought we were going to have a huge battle the next day?"

"Rather hard to forget."

"Mm. I couldn't sleep, I was so scared." Michinao reached for her hand, squeezed it. "And I didn't want to bother you or Naomasa, I started wandering through all the encampment, and big sis Magoichi was up, organizing her artillery. She let me sit with her. She was--very kind." She ducked her head a little. "I know it sounds silly, but..."

"No." He smiled, small and distant. "To a warrior, that's a bond of brotherhood. Ahh, or sisterhood. I'll respect your trust in her, Little Crane, I just needed to hear your reasons."

"All right." She paused, chewed her lip for a moment. "Uncle...there's still something big going on, isn't there?"

"Very much so." He frowned, freed his good hand to smooth down her hair, fussed. "Did you fight the Beast? Are you injured?"

She thought of the muddy rainbow spreading across her ribs and back, layered under salve and bandages and armor--still aching, she moved stiffly, but she could shoot and run fast enough, that was all she needed. "I'm a little banged up, but I'll be all right. And...I think he's all right, too. I'm more worried about you!"

"I've been tended to well. As I said, I'm more than grateful for her hospitality, I just didn't know what to make of it." He sighed. "I should probably sit out whatever battle we find ourselves in from here."

The door slid back open, framing Magoichi. "Ready to begin?"

"Mm-hm!" Tsuruhime nodded and beamed up at her. "We're all right. Thank you. Actually...can I see Takakage-kun?"

Magoichi paced back to take her seat. "Yes. In time. You should get the rest of the pieces together first. Start at the beginning."

So she did. Everything she could think of. Magoichi absorbed it in silent, piercing attention, then nodded slowly. "So the Otomo are part of the conspiracy. I'd wondered, when I picked him up."

"How...how did that happen? And Takakage-kun?"

"Patrols. I have a contract with Motochika, so I had a few squadrons out on key points of Shikoku. They saw the ruins of his ship wash up, fished him out, and brought him to me at my word. We have ways of crossing distances."

A cold knot twisted in Tsuruhime's gut. "Did...did anyone else make it...?"

Michinao bowed his head, face grim. "No. I'm very sorry, Little Crane. We were ambushed and outgunned."

She felt sick. Squeezed her eyes very tight shut for a moment. So many of her shipmates...she'd never lost that many at once...

"I picked up the Kobayakawa boy myself," Magoichi said. Her voice low, firm, almost gentle. Like a rock. "He was commanding two unmarked raiding ships, closing in on Shikoku from a hidden port at the border of Bizen and Chugoku. I'd noticed the unusual activity, and I don't like funny business on my doorstep, so I cornered him. And his explosives, if not the rest of his equipment, came from Mori clan stores."

A rustling of paper. Uncle Michinao's hand resting over hers.

"Don't stop moving, Oracle," Magoichi said quietly. "This isn't over yet."

She opened her eyes and looked down at a scorched scrap of paper laid out on the table. Green, stamped with the emblem of the Mori clan--she remembered that from the banners hanging over her as she fought Mr. Mori at Itsukushima, as she staggered back stunned with the ringblade closing in on her, as her Twilight Ninja--Kotarou--saved her.

"Why..." She fumbled, tried to pull herself together. "Why do you keep saying that? B-because you think Takakage-kun's working for somebody?"

"Yes."

"But he...he wanted to kill us for his own reasons..."

"Sure. But somebody's using that to their own ends. Supplying him, giving him missions. A desperate, angry kid left to his own devices isn't going to bother making supply raids on the man he wants to revenge himself upon, he's just going to rush at him and get it over with. Or chicken out and sulk. One of the two."

Tsuruhime considered that for a long, long moment. "He seemed...almost scared, when he realized Motochika was on my ship. And surprised. He...didn't want to die."

"And yet he keeps dragging this out and doing dangerous things. There's a net closing around you, Oracle. It bothers me that you don't see it. And that I don't know who's casting it."

"You...don't? It's not Mr. Otomo?"

"You ever met the kid? Sorin himself couldn't intimidate a butterfly, or cook up a scheme like this, and the Thunder King's a scrupulously honorable pillow in a helmet. No, they're being used, same as the brat. Part of it, but not the masterminds. Which leaves me worrying about Motochika."

Tsuruhime blinked. "Motochika...?"

"If the Otomo are collaborating with whatever's left of the Mori clan, they could be laying a trap for him in Chugoku."

"Wait--Chugoku?"

"Mm. Mori built up a prosperous land for himself, and now the vultures are coming in. You know Motochika's putting in his bid. The Thunder King's leading the lion's share of the Otomo ground troops into Chugoku right now, I'm guessing you didn't get that update. He probably thinks the Otomo and the Mori remnants are fighting and he can take advantage of the chaos." Magoichi grumbled, pulled out one of the revolvers from her thigh holster, and flicked it open to clean it. "It's handy that you got here quickly. I'm going to be heading over to Chugoku to reinforce him soon."

"Can I come with you?"

"If that is your wish. You'd be alone, yes? You're far from your fleet by now, and you're not fit to travel." She nodded at Uncle Michinao, and he sighed and bowed his head.

"It's true. Little Crane, please think this through. It seems Chugoku is in pitched battle right now."

"But..." She wavered, knotted her fingers together, unknotted them. "If there's somebody bossing around Takakage-kun _and_ the Otomo, they're trying to kill both me and Motochika, right? Big sis Magoichi, you have no idea who?"

"I've got theories, of course. But they all have holes."

"How do you...how do you even have theories?"

Magoichi shrugged, snapped the clean revolver back together, and laid it on the table. Pulled out the next. "Same as anyone would, beyond the specific intelligence. Rule out anybody who doesn't have the resources, motivation, or methods to suit what we know, look at who's left. The problem is, nobody of note is left, so we're dealing with a dark horse or somebody unexpected enough to be hard to predict."

"Nobody at all? But there are so many people out there, how do you rule them out?"

Magoichi raised an eyebrow. "You want the short version?"

"I...yes, I suppose, please!"

"All right. Somebody's making a power play for the entirety of both Chugoku and Shikoku and is an inveterate schemer and capable of striking fear in the hearts of small ninja children. Either Ishida's pet leper or Mori would have done something like this handily, and been my top suspects, but they're both dead, courtesy of our friend the Sea Devil."

Motochika had killed Mr. Otani too? Oh, there was so much she was missing...

"Yesterday, I had good money on Tenkai."

"Who's Tenkai?"

"He was commanding the Kobayakawa ground troops on the eastern border of Chugoku, putting in Kingo's bid. He'd have an interest in the situation, access to the brat, and from what I've heard, he's quite the shady fellow."

"The mad monk..."

Magoichi gave her a sharp look.

"Motochika said that. About...somebody? I'm guessing him?"

"Would be, yes. He appeared out of nowhere about a year back, and Kingo adores him so much that he practically handed him the keys to the castle as a welcome present. No accounting for taste." Her mouth twisted and she laid down another clean revolver. Tsuruhime watched her strong, clever fingers dance over steel and polished wood, grimy to the knuckles and tireless. "But that was yesterday. Motochika routed up from the sea with his usual...directness not long after you last met, and last I heard, Tenkai was crawling home stripped of everything that glittered. If he was laying a scheme that went as far as Kyushu and secret ships all through this area, he should have seen that coming. Setting a trap for our friend the Sea Devil is hardly difficult."

Tsuruhime couldn't help a laugh. "Mm, even I did it once!"

Magoichi cracked a smile. "Not to mention that the Kobayakawa clan's navy is composed of six fishing boats. So he's out, and he was my prime suspect."

"And everybody else?"

"You've ruled out the Beast for me. With how that went and with what I know of him, I'd put good money on him being genuine right now. Kanbei's incompetent, he would have exploded the whole mess before the kid even reached your ship. The Otomo are a known factor. And that's Kyushu. Chugoku's fronts are accounted for too--the Amago hold the other half of the land border, and they never do anything. Besides, if Ieyasu's pulling his usual tricks, their sky is raining yellow right now."

Tsuruhime blinked. "Usual...tricks?"

"Heh. Don't let the sunny disposition fool you. The punk learned to punch from Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and he punches below the belt. Last I heard, his new favorite move is using Honda to air-drop shock troops while a castle's commander is laid up ill or injured."

Tsuruhime felt her stomach sink. Had she done it again? Trusted somebody she shouldn't? But Ieyasu had always been so friendly, and wanting peace had to be good in the end...how did people _ever_ know these things?

"Before you keep that long face, no, this particular mess isn't his doing. I keep an eye on him, shinobi shadowplay isn't his style, and Motochika's probably his closest friend outside of Mikawa. Though that's not worth the weight of the rest. He did nearly fight the largest war this country's yet seen to kill Mitsunari."

Tsuruhime opened her mouth, closed it. "I thought...Mr. Ishida was his enemy?"

Magoichi laughed dryly. "No, nothing that simple. And nothing as pleasant as the rivalry you have. They're a right mess."

"But you...aren't you Ieyasu's ally? How can you say all that?"

"I worked for him once." She shrugged. "I worked for the Toyotomi, too, back when they took Odawara. Your Twilight Ninja was one of the few of the Hojo shinobi squadrons to survive." Her face softened a little at Tsuruhime's stunned stare, and she slid a revolver closed almost gently. "I'm a mercenary. It may be comforting to forget that, but the world will sit easier on your shoulders if you face it square on."

Tsuruhime breathed, folded her hands in her lap. "Mm. That's true."

"Little Crane," Uncle Michinao murmured. She almost squeaked--oh, he'd been so quiet, she'd almost thought he'd slipped out to rest.

"You got anything to add?" Magoichi asked.

"If I do, I will," Michinao said. "You're quite well-informed. And you," he murmured, quietly--not that Magoichi couldn't hear, but it wasn't meant for her. "You are very brave, Little Crane."

She ducked her head. "Oh, Uncle, I'm all right. But thank you. And everybody else, big sis?"

Another revolver clicked open. "The other big northern force for unification is the Date, but the dragon's cut from the same cloth as Motochika, and the brains of the outfit is dangerous but scrupulous. Their western governor's a weasel, but even more incompetent than Kanbei. The Tiger of Kai could pull off something like this if he was serious about taking over the country, but he's not particularly, and he has his own ninja forces. Same goes for the God of War. The Hojo of old could have played a game like this for breakfast and eaten the rest of us for lunch, but the last few generations have been toothless. Otherwise the Battle of Odawara would have been a far more interesting campaign."

"The Hojo of old...?" Tsuruhime thought of their shrine, the ancient withered grandeur of Odawara, and wondered.

"Oh, read up on Hojo Takimasa someday if you enjoy meddling bastards making obnoxious power plays."

Tsuruhime wrinkled her nose. She would get along much, much better with Uncle Ujimasa, she was sure.

"For the rest of the north: Matsunaga doesn't work on a large scale, fortunately for us all, and the Maeda are nonaggressive and have finally learned their lesson about choosing allies with care. The Toyotomi remnants are under Ieyasu's administration, the Oda remnants are nothing without your demon friend to moon over, and the pettier northern warlords have all fallen to the Date or the Tokugawa by now. And that's all the strong players still in the game."

Tsuruhime frowned, looked down at the table. "Takakage-kun...said he was Mr. Mori's third son. Do you know anything about his brothers?"

"Hm." Magoichi paused, looked at her over the gun she was cleaning. "Good call. Mori Takamoto's dead, poisoned back during the Demon King's reign. Kikkawa Motoharu was fostered out like his little brother, into one of the loyal Toyotomi vassal clans, so he'd have been left in the chaos when Mitsunari abdicated Osaka. Last I knew, he had neither the connections nor the resources to arrange this sort of thing, but I admit, he's been a low priority for following."

"So it...could be him."

"A working theory. Perhaps the best we've got. The Mori clan is all bought and sold by the same two-sided coin--use or be used." She hummed to herself, wiped the worst of the grime from her hands, and considered Tsuruhime at length across the table. "There's another factor to consider, though."

Tsuruhime tried not to squirm. "Yes...?"

"I deal in political and military knowledge. Not magical. Do you know of anybody who could influence your visions?"

She felt her mouth drop open, heard Michinao sputter in outrage beside her. "Wh...what? Why, why do you ask that? My visions are always true! They come straight from the great spirits!"

"Great spirits? Then who is this Himiko?"

"Little Crane's visions are incorruptible--you've spoken well so far, Lady Saica, but this is madness--"

"There _is_ construction going on in Tosa Bay, but it's not the shinobi brat's work," Magoichi said calmly. "It's the Fugaku. Motochika's floating fortress, he's building a new one. Might be easy to make the mistake, though, if you came misinformed, at least for long enough to start a fight."

"But--"

"And the Beast didn't invade Kanbei's territory. He formed a protective alliance with him, after Motochika beat him into the ground a few months ago, to rebuild his defenses and strengthen Kyushu against outside invasion. Keeps sending letters to the Thunder King asking him to join, but he refuses out of loyalty to his lord's whims. But this Himiko lied to you on both those points."

Tsuruhime swayed, felt Michinao's hand on her arm.

"I'm not questioning your ability as a whole," Magoichi said, a touch gentler. "But you must consider that this was not a normal vision."

"How could such a thing even be possible?" Michinao croaked. "You speak not of mere magic, but of interfering with the will of the gods themselves!"

Tsuruhime buried her face in her hands. How long had she been acting on that vision? That fight with Naomasa, worrying Oichi, the entire journey to Satsuma? Thinking that she hadn't gotten through to Takakage at all--that she would have to risk her life for the country?

Light bloomed in the darkness behind her eyes. Golden, soothing, pure. Her heart leapt, her mind reeled.

**_Tsuruhime. Be strong. There is always deception in this world of impure spirits. I know you have learned this to your sorrow._ **

_She could see her--sudden, the world gone, fallen away as her spirit sight opened wide--still the light too blinding to see her face, still her hand held out in warm welcome..._

**_This woman deals in spies and shadows, and her loyalty can be bought with spare change. You must not believe her babble. She will waste your precious time, conspiring with the boy so that he appears a prisoner while she leads you elsewhere._ **

_But Lady Himiko--my friend, she's my friend--_

**_No, she has only lied to you to win your trust, just as Otani did. You must destroy her if you wish to live, before it is too late. For you won time on your journey back from Satsuma with Fuuma's grace, so narrow a chance that I could not have imagined it would come. And I would not wish to see you die, when you have risen to avert the Beast's rampage so bravely._ **

_She...she has? Even big sis Magoichi? I...I have to...?_

_Who could she even trust--a distant clamor of voices--the world shaking--_

"...Little Crane! Little Crane!"

Ceiling beams blurring. Reality, sinkingly dark after the light of the vision. Tsuruhime reached a hand out, fumbling, found the familiar silk of Uncle Michinao's priest robes. Sprawled on her back on mats that smelled of gunpowder and tallow.

Magoichi leaned over her, brow dark with a frown, brushed callused, gun-oiled knuckles over her forehead as if to see if she was feverish. "Do her visions come upon her like this, or is she just tired?"

"No, no, she's never fallen like this, not since she was little..."

Magoichi caught her arm, started to pull her up, and for a moment, fear clenched at her. Tsuruhime's hands shook. Fell to the holster on her thigh, warm-polished wood under her fingers as she closed her hand round the pommel of one of Magoichi's guns.

"I'm assuming Himiko told you to kill me," Magoichi said, very calm.


	15. In Which the Commander of Iyo Charts her Course With her Own Hands

"Little Crane! Please, tell us what was said--was it really Himiko again?"

Uncle Michinao's voice seemed to echo from distant shores. Tsuruhime's vision blurred at the edges, as if some pressure weighed upon her mind and would not let go. Magoichi's hand on her arm, steadying her. Tsuruhime's hand on the pommel of her gun, shaking. It would be so easy to draw it, barrel sliding free of leather at her touch--she'd never fired one--

**_I'm the only one you can trust. Listen to me, Tsuruhime--_ **

The three-legged crow carried the light of the sun in her feathers. The three-legged crow picked the battlefield clean so that new life could spring, flew from the heavens as a guide to the greatest emperors of history--the three-legged crow watched from the banner above, stitched in copper on Saica green--

**_\--if you do not strike now, you will die._ **

Her hand stopped shaking. Her soul wandered through light, adrift, anchorless. Magoichi met her eyes, steady, without fear; the three-legged crow had a gaze as keen as eternity; they'd held hands in the night as she learned to breathe easy even with the sun about to rise on the death of thousands.

If the world was such that she couldn't trust anyone, not even her dearest friends, if she had to be alone like that forever--she would rather die. Could it be that simple? Oh, but of course it was.

**_Then die. Fool! An utter idiot as always--such time I have wasted in this--_ **

_Lady Himiko? Lady Himiko, why are you so mean--?_

No. No, she didn't have to listen to her anymore--it really _was_ that simple--

\--light burst, shattered, faded.

The room was small, dark, vividly real.

Tsuruhime picked her hand off of Magoichi's gun, smiled up at her bright and earnest, and tipped over into her bosom. Wrapped both arms round her waist and held on tight and didn't even care. Magoichi let out a huff of a sigh and patted her shoulder.

"I believe in my friends," she murmured into Magoichi's chest. "Always."

"Oh, Little Crane," Michinao croaked, and she felt his hand land on her other shoulder.

"Good girl," Magoichi breathed. And, louder, "Did you shake it off permanently?"

"I...don't know? I think so." She straightened, shook herself; she felt thin, worn out, clear as pure water. And pouted. "She got really mean once I decided to ignore her."

"Heh. Not surprised. Any clue who it was?"

She closed her eyes for a long moment. Breathed. Golden light. It had reminded her of what she'd seen inside Takakage, all those weeks ago, but so much stronger. _So I guess I have Nichirin's blessing after all_. "Nichirin," she murmured slowly, and opened her eyes to see Magoichi looking faintly satisfied. "I should have realized, I'm sorry, I didn't even think--Takakage hid his intentions to kill me in golden light. Nichirin's blessing, he called it. Himiko's light was so much stronger, I didn't even realize it was the same thing, and..."

"I see. I'll have my crows comb the field for anything on the second son, then. The Mori fingerprints are too thick to ignore."

"That would mean...Takakage-kun's scared of his own brother..."

"There's little love lost in that clan, from what I've gathered.

"That's...kind of sad. So few people get to have families at all..."

"Little Crane," Uncle Michinao said quietly, and his good arm settled around her shoulders. Pulled her in, and she carefully put her arms around him and hugged him too, for a long, long while. Long enough to Magoichi to call in one of her men with some silent signal, murmur orders, send him on his way.

"Are we done here, 'Hime?"

She stirred, slowly uncurled from Uncle Michinao. Smiled up at her. "I...think so? I'm really sorry about nearly shooting you."

"No worries." She gave a brief, crooked smile in return. "Just as well you didn't try. The recoil sprains your wrist if you're not used to it, and then you'd be no good with a bow. You ever want to learn how to shoot, I'll teach you properly."

Tsuruhime felt herself laughing, bright as always. "No, that's all right! I like my arrows, I like being able to stun people without wounding them. _And_ they're pink."

"Wouldn't be surprised if any bullets you fired came out pink." Magoichi held her hand out, pulled Tsuruhime to her feet, and she in turn helped up Uncle Michinao. "What's your next move?"

Tsuruhime went still for a moment, then picked her way over to take her seat at the table again. Well. She hadn't actually gotten that far, had she? "I could go with you to Chugoku...especially if you think Takakage-kun's brother is setting an ambush. And if he was playing at being Himiko!" She tossed her head. "A ten thousand fold payback for the heartache of a maiden!"

Magoichi raised an eyebrow, opened her mouth--and Uncle Michinao settled creakily down beside Tsuruhime. "Little Crane, the Otomo navy is unengaged, and aggressively patrolling contested waters."

Tsuruhime felt a cold knot settle in her belly at the thought. _We are the first line of defense against any attack from Kyushu._ "You're saying...I should go home?"

"You're Iyo's supreme commander," Magoichi said. "Nobody will make that decision for you, or should."

She was very still for a moment. But there--there was only one real answer, wasn't there?

"Then...thank you, thank you both very much, for telling me everything I need to know." She held her chin high, made her voice strong against any doubt. "I will defend Iyo."

Magoichi gave a very small smile. "I assume you'll want to see the boy before you leave."

"Takakage-kun...yes, please. And..." She looked over at Michinao, worried. "I can get to Iyo quickly by myself, but we don't have a ship, do we?"

"You can stay here in my village until you're fit to travel," Magoichi said. "Likely the battle will be over by then."

Tsuruhime nodded and bowed. "Thank you very much for caring for him." Straightened. "Oh, Uncle Michinao...can you send a message to Naomasa at all?"

"Of course. Shall we have him meet you on Iyo's seafront, Little Crane?"

"Yes, please!"

"A good conclusion," Magoichi said quietly. "Any other questions, 'Hime?"

"I don't think so..."

"May I ask one of you, then, Lady Saica?"

Magoichi raised an eyebrow. "Of course."

Michinao straightened a little, looked at her, suddenly piercing. "Why do you choose to help Little Crane so freely?"

"Because Motochika's a part of this, and I have a standing emergency aid contract with him. It's wonderful for my budget." She was quiet for a moment, and then looked at Michinao. "With respect, General, I wish your commander's confidence for a moment. I will give my answer to her. Please rest in the tea room, you've been up for longer than the doctors would like."

His brow furrowed; he looked to Tsuruhime, nodded slowly, and rose. Tsuruhime squeaked in surprise and handed him his cane.

"Uncle...?"

"She means she'd like to talk to just you."

"Oh. That's okay! I'll see you when we're done."

He bowed to Magoichi, left, and for a moment the little room was very quiet. She pulled out the revolvers she had cleaned, laid them on the table for reloading.

"What is your relationship with Motochika?" she asked at last.

"My...relationship?" Tsuruhime blinked. "Well, we're rivals! If both of us saying that makes it official? I don't know if it can get more official than that."

"Not particularly. What does that mean to you?"

"Well, we fight a lot...he said recently that he's been going easier on me than he should. I've been winning all the time, he needs to step up his game."

"Idiot," Magoichi said, but it seemed almost fond.

"I want to defeat him! But I want to earn it. What else...we argue a lot too, but when it's serious, we get along. And it's... _fun_. He kidnapped me to have a duel in front of all his smelly rude pirates and Mr. Ishida nearly killed me, but that wasn't his fault, and then I kidnapped him back for tea...I don't know if we're doing it right, and sometimes we bother each other for real, but. I think it's good."

"And you just want to keep fighting forever?"

She felt her brow furrow. "I...well fighting _all_ the time would be tiresome, we work well together too...oh, do you mean about defeating each other for real?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to kill him. And..." Faith. She had faith. She wouldn't let herself waver any more. Smiled bright. "It's the same for him."

Magoichi studied her for a moment. "If you had to fall in battle, would you rather it was to him?"

She blinked, taken aback. If she had to...she wasn't a samurai like the others. She wasn't raised for a glorious death--she'd never even really considered it until the prophecy. The false prophecy. No shame for her in leaving the battlefield, never to return. In dying old and homebound and surrounded by...no grandchildren, she supposed, no husband. People of the shrine. Friends. She could never bear to be alone...

She shook her head, slowly. Thoughts of her own future an uneasy maze that she could be trapped in for hours; she still had much to do. "No. Maybe Mr. Sanada would say I was doing it wrong, but...no. Because he'd be sad to kill me. And I want to live. I mean, I guess I'd rather he took over Iyo than somebody really cruel, but that's different, isn't it?"

"In theory, yes. Perhaps not in practice. But well enough." She was quiet for a moment, chambering bullets. "I'm helping you both because I like you."

Tsuruhime blinked, taken aback, and then broke out in sparkles. "Thank you! I like you too. I'm sorry Uncle Michinao is fussy about it all."

Magoichi shook her head and almost smiled. "He's worried that Iyo might find herself in unspecified debt to the Saica, I'd imagine. Owing a spy or mercenary a favor can be dangerous, and not everybody understands the honor of the Saica Faction. But I don't play the leverage game, and this has been little trouble. This consultation has helped us both, as has keeping the boy prisoner, and caring for your general is a matter of hospitality. You may tell him that neither of you are compromised."

"Mm. Okay! And thank you again for your hospitality." She looked down at the guns laid across the table, quiet for a moment. "Are there people out there who think that they're supposed to owe me a favor, just because I helped them? That's...that's sad..."

"You're a priestess. It does set a different expectation."

"I hope so." She felt like her head was still abuzz, even with all the confusion of Himiko made clear--oh, Magoichi knew so much, she wanted to talk with her for hours and hours, but she didn't have time, did she? "I didn't know you were friends with Motochika too."

"Heh. From way back."

"An old friend," she murmured, and then stirred and sat up straighter. "Are you...sorry if this is a weird question, but are you Sayaka?"

She groaned and snapped a loaded revolver back together with particular force. "Don't _you_ start."

Tsuruhime tilted her head. "So you're Sayaka but you don't want to be called Sayaka?"

"I haven't gone by that name in years, and he's a slow-witted sap who can't let go of the good old days. What, what did he say about me?"

"That you'd beaten sense into him. I think when he was going to do something bad."

"Ah." A trace of a smile. "I suppose that's worth taking credit for. Even if he is an idiot."

Tsuruhime laughed a little. "He really is. Why...is this all a secret? Just that you like us?"

She shrugged. "Work. I'm a mercenary, it's my job to be impartial. And I can't have it getting out that I give freebies, then everybody starts whining."

Tsuruhime digested that for a moment. "That sounds lonely."

A flicker of amusement crossed Magoichi's face as she holstered her guns. "Clearly I manage."

* * *

Uncle Michinao was settled on a stack of pillows in another room, and Magoichi waved Tsuruhime over as they passed on their way to see Takakage. He leaned with his back against the wall, eyes closed, seeming pale; only stirred and lifted his head as he heard her approach.

"Little Crane? What was that all about?"

Tsuruhime settled next to him with a little smile. "Girl stuff. It's okay, Uncle Michinao. It really is just because we're friends, we're not compromised or anything, that's just supposed to be a secret. We can pretend we paid her if we need to, I guess. You'll be all right here, I promise."

He let out a long, slow, slightly wheezy breath, and relaxed back against the wall. "I see." He waved his good hand a little vaguely. "Don't mind that I worry, dear Little Crane."

She caught his arm to hug it. "Of course not. It's your job."

He laughed, couldn't even reach to ruffle her hair. "And it's not your job to worry about me right now. Iyo needs her commander."

She let go slowly, folded a hand over her heart for a moment. She--really was. Iyo's commander. Maybe she wasn't very good at thinking like one yet, but...

"I'll do my best!"

* * *

"He's not a very good ninja yet," Magoichi said, offhanded, leading her down a narrow hallway to a back door. "Makes things easier. The things you have to do to hold the ones that walk through shadows pretty much count for torture in themselves."

She slid the door open, waved her outside. Tsuruhime shivered a little in the warm sunlight and didn't quite dare ask.

The Saica stockade was a maze of thick-planted log walls behind the manor, watched over by rifle-bearing guards perched like crows in the trees; an iron key long as her hand unlocked the main gate, and inside they wove through narrow passageways until they reached Takakage's cell.

He looked--so small, by daylight, snugly bound hand and foot, stripped of mask and weapons, and leaning against the stockade wall as if asleep. Tsuruhime looked hesitantly up to Magoichi for a moment, and when she said nothing, she padded over and dropped to her knees in the dirt to sit before him.

"Takakage-kun...?"

He started, stirred. Shook bangs out of his face with a weary groan, and then saw her, and his eyes went very wide. 

"You--you're alive?"

Magoichi, somewhere behind her, made a contemplative noise. "So you expected otherwise. Was the Beast meant to eat her, I wonder?"

Takakage made a small, choked noise, and hid his face in the wall. "I'm still not telling you anything," he mumbled.

"Well, I'm all right!" Tsuruhime said brightly. Magoichi was probably trying to figure out something from this, so she might as well help somehow. "I did fight the Beast...he was very strong, but I really did believe I was fighting him to save the whole country, so I made myself stronger."

Takakage snorted weakly, drew his bound legs closer to his chest and curled up. "Yeah, you're only strong when you're protecting something."

Tsuruhime couldn't let herself pout, so she sparkled instead. "And then I'm the strongest. How have you been since we last met?"

"How do you _think_ ," he grumbled, squirming in his bonds.

"I'm glad you didn't attack me and my shipmates again."

That made something catch in his throat, the frown ease off his face. For a moment he looked almost...sad? Face turning away from her slowly. "Yeah."

She smiled warmly at him. "You didn't want to, after that?"

"What are you, stupid?" He hissed, ground his toes into the dirt, and mumbled, almost too faint for her to hear, "I didn't want to at all."

She felt her eyes widen. "Takakage-kun...?"

He stiffened, glared over her shoulder at Magoichi looming over them both. " _Fine_ , you've already figured out I'm somebody's subordinate, whatever. It doesn't matter."

"So what you said about trying to kill me because I was close to Motochika...?"

"I had a mission," he bit out. "It doesn't matter, _nothing_ matters, go away."

He was allowed to be a _little_ rude given that he was all tied up and captured, she supposed. "Mm, I'll need to soon, I'm sorry. But not quite yet."

"I'm not gonna tell _you_ anything either," he sighed, resting his face on his knees.

"That's okay." She scooted a little closer. "I didn't want you to get hurt then, and I don't want you to get hurt now--"

" _Why_ ," he groaned. "I nearly blew up your whole ship, why are you still so damn set on pitying--"

"It isn't pity!" Her heart ached, just a little, and she felt her hands tighten on her knees. "Just because you don't like it doesn't mean it's not well-meant."

"Well ex _cuse_ me."

"I can't forgive you for trying that, but forgiving and letting people grow are very different things."

"Stop pretending I'll have a chance to." His voice was so small she barely heard him, even as close as she was. She took a deep, shaky breath...gods, he was so hurt and angry all the time that she barely knew how to move around him.

"Big sis Magoichi says you're scared of somebody. Besides us, I mean."

"'M not scared of you." He groaned, somehow managed to curl up even more. "What, you gonna try to promise to protect me now?"

"Maybe. If you don't hurt me and my shipmates anymore. And not because I want you to owe me, I promise, but because I'm a priestess, I want to help people."

"I'm already," he blurted, and then choked it back. "There's no _point_ , Oracle. You can't protect me, not from--from him."

"Why not? Why is he so much scarier?"

"Because he--"

He clenched his teeth. Silence hung.

"Because he's your family?" Tsuruhime asked, as gently as she could.

Something in his face cracked, and then he all but hissed in anger, inching away from her with a squirm of bound legs.

"Takakage-kun...?"

"No. Stop it, damn it--fuck you, Oracle, I'm not playing this game."

She felt her face crumple with concern. "I'm just trying to--"

" _No_." He glared at her, brown bangs just like his father's hanging in his eyes. "You want to know who I'm working for so you can go sic your mercenaries on them or whatever it is you're trying to do, admit it!"

"I--n-no, I'm not siccing anybody on anybody, I just want to know who's trying to kill me--"

"Yeah. Whatever you're calling it."

"I want to help you!"

"Get out. Get out! I'm not talking to you."

She opened her mouth, closed it. Felt some sick, hot feeling gnawing at her gut which she'd never felt before, couldn't even name. And then slid back, slowly, closed her eyes. Forced her voice to be gentle.

"I...do want to protect my friends and shipmates. You're right. But I _do_ also want to help you, whether you want to believe it or not."

"Then prove it," he growled. "Get me out of here."

She shook her head slowly. "That...wouldn't help you. I can tell that much. Whoever it is, if he finds out you aren't committed to the mission...he'd hurt you, wouldn't he, maybe even kill you. Right?"

He deflated. Slowly.

"So no, I can't help you like that, I'm sorry. I'll find another way to figure out who's after me. But you seem like you're stuck in a really bad position, so if I ever can help, let me know, all right?"

"Whatever," he mumbled. "Get out."

"...all right," she said, very quiet. "I'll see you later."

Magoichi was calm, quiet, studying her as she rose. Waved her out and locked the door behind her as Takakage groaned and flopped back against the stockade wall.

"Trying to catch flies with honey, hm?"

Tsuruhime blinked up at her. "Isn't that how you're supposed to do it? Um...could you keep him here, for now?"

"Already planning on it." Magoichi considered her. "More confirmation than I'd gotten out of him yet, and he made some interesting implications. I think he likes you."

She tossed her head. "Well, I'm likable!"

"You want him safe."

"Mm. Please."

"Well, if somebody gets sent to either bail him out or kill him for not doing his job with you, I suppose we'll learn something."

Tsuruhime gave a weak smile. "I...suppose." And then stopped, leaned against the stockade wall for a moment. Warm rough wood against her back. Almost normal.

"Nobody gets used to business like this in a day," Magoichi said quietly. "It's all right."

She swallowed, closed her eyes for a moment. "Big sis..." Took a breath--oh, she never tried to admit when she was scared anymore, but she'd been turned upside-down too often through all this not to. "Do you...think I've messed this up?"

"A little. Not too badly yet. And you're making the right move right now. Word of advice."

"Y...yes?"

"People often have many reasons to do one thing. And that's okay. Life's complicated. Nobody's entirely pure while they're alive, and that's all right, that's how things are--you're a priestess, you know that. But always be aware when you have ulterior motives, and don't let yourself assume that the selfless ones justify them. Don't be a punk."

She took a deep, shaky breath, nodded. "I...think I understand. But...I just want to protect my people..."

"That's ulterior. Ultimately. Simply because it's big. You're one person trying to run circles around a whole province, a whole army, like a small dog guarding a whole town. Anyone in that position has to extend their reach, and most ways of doing that aren't pleasant."

"I...have a lot of help."

"Sure. About the best way you can go."

She felt her heart quaver, and slowly, slowly leaned against Magoichi's strong shoulder instead. "You're...really nice, you know."

"No I'm not," she said, fond. "I'm a heartless mercenary."

"Mm." She smiled, small but strong.

"Now go home and guard your front. Good clean work."

"You'll take care of Motochika?"

Magoichi sighed. "As always, apparently. Come on, let's get--"

"Sir! _Sir_!"

A man's voice, loud and clear, echoing from outside.

Magoichi's hand splayed against her shoulder, pushed her towards the main door of the stockade. Tsuruhime skittered into a run on instinct, but Magoichi just strode after her, implacable. The door swung open to show a man in black-and-green ninja wear and mask, down on one knee.

"I got news from the crows, sir, I thought you and the Oracle would want to hear before she left."

Uncle Michinao was behind the man, leaning on his cane and panting.

"Uncle, please, you should be resting!"

"Little Crane, it's--"

Magoichi held up a hand. "Let him deliver it as it was sent."

The messenger nodded sharply. "From the crow that watches the Iyo border: a message from the Kono flagship intercepted in relay: the guest of the inner sanctuary has vanished, her room disturbed but no other signs of kidnapping."

Tsuruhime gasped, felt her stomach turn a flip-flop. "O...Oichi-chan? But...but why? How?"

"The Kobayakawa boy saw her, didn't he?" Michinao croaked, breathless. "Whoever he's working for must have learned of her..."

"Your pet demon queen." Magoichi frowned, barely ruffled. "Whoever's taken her is certainly going to have their hands full. Assuming it _was_ a kidnapping."

"Oichi..." The messenger's head came up, his eyes widening over his mask. "Sir. If I may. I did not realize this concerned the Demon Queen, nor that this was connected. From the crow that watches Tosa Bay: an eruption of shadow has consumed the Fugaku, of a like that has not been seen since the Demon King's reign."

Tsuruhime clamped both hands over her mouth as her stomach sank to her toes. Looked over at Michinao's face crumpling in horror.

"Little Crane...the prophecies I transcribe...I keep them in the sanctuary. If she read them..."

"Oh, hell," Magoichi muttered. "You're being played like fiddles."

"Little Crane, I'm so sorry--"

"You...you couldn't have guessed," Tsuruhime blurted. "None of us could have. Oh, Uncle, I'm sorry--send an update to Naomasa, please? He should still return to Iyo with the fleet, I'll be home with Oichi-chan as soon as I can!" She tightened the strap of her quiver, whipped around to bow to Magoichi, deeply, heart pounding. "Thank you, thank you so much, I'll see you later--"

And she straightened and ran. Full tilt, across the training grounds of Magoichi's manor to a little hill, picking up speed with sheer desperation up the slope to kick off at the summit, pink light sparking under her feet as she flew high, high into the air.


	16. In Which a Thousand Demons Fall to the Hands of their Queen

Three great leaps away from the Saica village, the wind blew the clouds away from the afternoon sun, and for a moment, high in the sky, Tsuruhime was blinded by its light. She squeezed her eyes very tight shut as she peaked, and for a moment she fell blinded, breathless as the wind whistled past--and then it didn't seem like she was falling at all--

Hard wood slammed into her, head to toe, like a wall in midair, and she whimpered, winded, curled up and clutched at her bruised ribs. Ears ringing, not even sure which way was up, except that she wasn't sliding...and somebody was laughing, a woman was laughing, low and wild and broken. Laughing. Laughing. The world spun.

For a moment, she wasn't sure she'd opened her eyes at all. Darkness. Inky black darkness. Writhing. Something huge and strange rubbing against her arm. Until she got a glimpse of sky, between ribbons of shadow--fingers, hands. Enough light to see the outline of a great carved demon face looming over her, raw unpainted wood. Broken scaffolding. A cannon barrel bent in half and tossed aside. Smoldering fires.

"Oichi-chan...?" How had she fallen here...her Twilight Ninja? Oh, what did it matter, she was where she needed to be. On the Fugaku. With Oichi.

She rolled slowly onto her hands and knees, found herself face-to-face with a sea-weathered man, bandana askew, lying with one arm reaching out to her and a pleading look in his eyes--

\--broken. Arm, back, his whole body an impossible twist on the bloody deck.

"Oh, Motochika," she breathed. "I'm so sorry..." His little brothers, he'd called them. For a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut and fought down the wrench of horror in her gut. She'd seen death on the battlefield before, but--not like this, not torn apart by the demon sleeping in her dear friend, not because of her own--no. No. Somebody had set this all up, it wasn't her fault, she _knew_ that.

Knew that she had never been allowed to handle the dead, to so much as  touch the terrible corruption of a corpse. But that didn't matter right now. It couldn't. She would dive into the depths of impurity to reach Oichi.

She closed the pirate's eyes, gently. Felt her flesh crawl and tingle, but did not allow herself to feel fear. Then stood, carefully, wavering a little as she found the rhythm of the Fugaku's deck--long slow rolls of a ship that massive, rocked more by the great black hands that clawed across its length than by the gentle harbor waves. The ship was vast, a forest of hands and broken wood and bodies. Sobbing laughter echoing from all around.

"Lord Nagamasa...Lord Nagamasa..."

A desperate whisper, distant. Tsuruhime ran for it, bells chiming, calling for her. Through thickening darkness, until the deck was black beneath her feet and she slipped between corpses by feel, pried aside clawing hands that shuddered and bubbled at her touch, far too strong now to be driven back by mere bells. Until one caught her wrist, another her ankle; a huge one wrapped around her whole chest as if she was a doll in its palm; and there was nothing solid beneath her, and she slid, down, down, into some well of corruption and malice so thick she wanted to scream, and fear made her stomach churn in spite of herself.

"Oichi-chan! Oichi-chan, can you hear me?"

"Ran...maru...?"

"Oichi-chan, it's Tsuruhime! Your white bird! Please--" She dragged one hand free, reached out into the darkness. "Let me hold you like I used to--you don't have to be alone!"

"Alone...Ichi's never...been alone...Ichi has Lord Nagamasa..."

Tsuruhime brought up a smile, even in the darkness. "Of course...he'd watch over you always. I know he loved you very much. But it's lonely, to only have friends among the dead..."

"Everyone...everyone died...everyone, everyone, everyone...Lord Nagamasa said...Ranmaru, Ranmaru, little bird with pretty arrows, friendly little bird..."

The hand tightened round her waist, sudden. So tight the plates of her armor creaked, and she gasped and struggled to breathe, and Oichi's voice darkened an octave.

"...come closer so Ichi can kill you again."

"A...gain?" Tsuruhime croaked, head spinning.

"Everyone died...Ichi had to kill them...kill them all...break the back...break the neck...devour the intestines..." Laughter, broken laughter. Tsuruhime shuddered, grief clawing at her. No wonder, no wonder she'd forgotten--she was so gentle, to carry guilt like that must have hurt her so much. She strained to wrestle her other hand free, strained with all her strength--if only she'd been prepared, a sacred rope, paper strips, _anything_ to help with purification, even a little. Would the false prophecy come out the other end and be true after all, would she die here like this? No, she believed in her friends, always. Folded her free hand gently over the shadowy one that clutched at her wrist, just as if she was holding Oichi's real hand.

"Did you...want to, Oichi-chan?"

Demon flesh shivered under her palm.

"Ichi...did Ichi..." Her voice darkened again, a cold bite of rage she'd never heard before. "It was inevitable."

"But if it wasn't your wish, you don't have to...now..." Her voice sounded thin; she was lightheaded, sightless in the depths of Oichi's darkness. Gulped air and fumbled for words. "You don't have to carry any more blood on your hands, Oichi-chan! Please...let's leave here together,  and you can live in peace..."

Oichi wailed, somewhere in the shadows in front of her, sobs breaking through the laughter, sudden and raw. "Ichi can't...it's all Ichi's fault..."

"It's okay. Oichi-chan, I know it's hard to believe, but whatever you've done, whatever you remember, if you want to live in peace, you can. Anyone can be washed clean..."

"A...anyone...? Even..." Hands shuddered around her, and the world went even blacker, and she relaxed in their grip and curled into the great fingers holding her. She was still alive--just that could give her faith. Oichi could have killed her by now if she'd wanted to, so easily, but she hadn't. "The Demon Queen of the Fifth Heaven..." Oichi's voice black and commanding again, for a second, but Tsuruhime wasn't even afraid of that anymore.

"Anyone. I'm a priestess, it's my job." Even if she wasn't sure whether that was true for demon queens--she'd _make_ it true.

"Ranmaru...no, you're not...just a little bird loving what he does not understand...run away, run away..."

"No, it's me, remember? Your white bird, Tsuruhime..." Was she talking in circles? _Could_ she even reach her? "Is there a little golden bell in your hair? I gave it to you, remember? When I drew pretty things for you all over that letter, that night. And the next morning we made a string for it together, and I painted some cranes for your room..."

" _Oh_ ," Oichi breathed, and all her demon arms went very still for a moment, and a bell rang, soft and bright. "Oh."

The shadows cleared between them, and finally Tsuruhime saw her. Oichi crumpled to her knees in the middle of her well of darkness, held up by her own black hands, face wet with tears, little golden bell glinting in her hair and ringing, ringing, ringing. And eyes widening, a gasp of sheer relief as she saw her. "White...Bird...?"

The hands holding Tsuruhime loosened. Her feet found solid ground, even if it was still stained inky black, and she staggered for a moment, leaning against the wrist of the one that had held her, and it was solid as a tree trunk and warm. She smiled, breathless, bright. "Oh, Oichi-chan--"

Light flashed above them, strangely bright even as Oichi's arms loosened their grip on the Fugaku by a precious hair and let the sun shine down--and something fell out of the sky, landed between them with a thump. No. Somebody. Lurching to his feet with a feral growl. For a moment, Tsuruhime could only stare in sheer bewilderment as Ishida Mitsunari stared right back at her, eyes terribly wide. Blood spattered across his armor, still fresh, staining his face and jacket. Unsheathed sword in his hand.

"M...Mr. Ishida?"

"Ridiculous," he croaked. "How _dare_ such an absurd happenstance take me from my lord's side--"

His voice died in his throat as he took in the wreckage of the Fugaku. Turned. To where Oichi swayed on her knees in the middle of her demon aura, blinking at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Oh...Lord Grumpy...?"

" _You_ ," he growled. "You who have dishonorably assaulted Lord Motochika's holdings--prepare to die!"

"No!" Tsuruhime shook off the last clutching hand, reached for an arrow. Her bow wasn't even strung, she'd run here from Magoichi's place--could it really have been only a few minutes ago? "Mr. Ishida, wait, please! She's not going to--"

" _Silence_!" he barked, and charged, and the first strike of his blade turned aside the hand that swatted at him, and Tsuruhime nearly sobbed aloud as she strung her bow. She was normally so quick with it, but she was racing Mitsunari, her fingers felt like wood--a second demon hand out of his way, a third, Oichi's startled cries as he cut them down. Finally, finally she could drag an arrow onto her bowstring, as Oichi buried her face in her palms and sobbed, thin scraggling demon hands rising like a curtain between her and Mitsunari--and he shot between them she couldn't even see him move, barreled into Oichi fast enough to bear her to the ground. Stepped on her chest to force her down, drew his sword with a flash of sickly light--

" _No!!_ "

The blade went through Oichi's throat like butter before Tsuruhime's arrow even hit Mitsunari's arm. Fine wooden shaft wedged between the plates of his armor, and he jolted, nearly dropped his sword, turned to stare at her with maddened eyes.

Blood spilling out through black hair. Lifeblood. Her throat open like a mouth. Tsuruhime couldn't bear to look after a moment; the world was ringing; Mitsunari slowly picking his foot off of Oichi's chest. She hadn't turned the arrow to light. It looked--almost hideous, sticking out of him--not even hers, fletched in Hojo blue. So desperate to stop him that she'd--she'd actually shot him--and she hadn't even--

"Oichi-chan! _Oichi-chan_!!"

The hands writhing across the deck shuddered as one, clawed at the sky, and went terribly still. Tsuruhime staggered, numb, felt her eyes sting hot.

"So your treachery yet remains, Oracle! Then prepare yourself! Lord Hideyoshi, grant me permission to erase this traitor from the world and lay my sins to waste and her corpse beside her servant's!"

"Oichi-chan--how _could_ you--!"

She couldn't see any blood, not against his dark armor, but he must have been bleeding--how could he even hold onto his sword like that? She staggered back a step as he crouched, sheathed his blade for the drawing--and then raised another arrow to the string, called pink light, and fired. Her strongest bolt straight to his chest, driving him back a step. And again. And again. Until the world blurred, hot tears stinging her eyes. Her head pounded with anger, clawing anger like she'd never felt before--she would drive him to his knees, she would wear out his spirit until he never drew his sword again--she could hear herself screaming from very far away--

A low, rattling moan rose all around them as the hands shuddered, writhed. Pure shadow pouring from Oichi's throat. A whisper.

"...kill Ichi...kill Ichi...Lord Grumpy can't...please...kill Ichi..."

Mitsunari whirled with a choked cry, eyes going very wide. Tsuruhime's arrow flew far afield, pink light scattering as she dropped her bow to her side, staggered a step closer.

"O...Oichi-chan? You're...you're alive?"

"Ichi...was never..." Even her blood was fading, dissolving into creeping violet mist; her hand, slim and pale, twitching as she stirred. "Alive...to begin with..."

"Oh, Oichi-chan," Tsuruhime breathed. Her heart felt like it was going to explode--what was she even feeling anymore?

"Nonsense," Mitsunari muttered, almost too faint to hear, but rising fast and harsh. "Nonsense, _nonsense_! Cease this nonsense! _You_ at least must die if I kill you, Oracle!"

His crouch, low, hand poised to draw.

"Oh," Oichi murmured, and Tsuruhime sprung in the same instant as Mitsunari. One somersault backwards, two, resolve giving light and sparkle to her feet. Oichi would be all right, she wasn't--she wasn't dead--and there was no time. None. Spun on the ball of her foot to fire into the sky, and the rain of pink light caught Mitsunari bare feet from her, steel of his blade glinting.

"Oichi-chan, please, if you don't want to carry any more blood on your hands, let him live!"

Oichi whined, rolled slowly onto her side as shadows pooled under her, thickened, ghastly moans thrumming through the depths of the Fugaku. Her powers recovering as she did, swelling, redoubling. "White Bird...too kind...too kind, White Bird, you'll die...like Lord Nagamasa..." A sudden shriek, hands blurring and thickening out of empty air. "Lord Nagamasa...!"

Tsuruhime fired again, immobilizing Mitsunari anew, and leapt. Behind him now, so that he would have to take a moment to find her, and then she could only pray she had enough time--her aura, she needed to focus her aura through these unfamiliar arrows, and it was hard to calm her pounding heart, her gut churning with worry for Oichi. "I'll be all right, Oichi-chan. I can fight him, I promise, and my Twilight Ninja is always watching over me..." Ice, she needed ice, enough to freeze Mitsunari for as long as she could, and it felt like forever as her aura flared, as crystals prickled numb along her skin, as glittering pink-ice light congealed around the fiercely barbed Hojo arrowhead. The light pinning Mitsunari in place faded; he lurched forward a step, skidded out in a low crouch, floundered, turned, launched into a run...

"Ichi had to kill everyone...had to, had to, for Lord Nagamasa..."

Tsuruhime fired, lips moving in silent prayer, and ice caught Mitsunari square in the chest, crystallized around him with a terrible crack, a giant crystal big enough to envelope him. Seconds, maybe only bare seconds until he broke free--she flung herself at Oichi, wrapped her arms around her, pulled her close. "Oichi-chan--don't stop remembering! I know it hurts, but remember--when he led the people of Anegawa, when he helped them--wasn't Mr. Azai a kind man? Didn't he fight for justice and peace? These people...they're ruffians, but they're good men, they take in people in need. Would he--would he want this, Oichi-chan?"

Oichi went rigid, breathless. A tiny, broken whimper in the back of her throat, as if she'd been stabbed through the heart, and Tsuruhime choked back a sob herself and held her tight and didn't even know what to say anymore.

And then Oichi screamed. Raw, anguished, again and again, fast as she could draw breath, and her eyes looked somewhere countless miles past Tsuruhime, and ice cracked and heaved, and far, far overhead, light flashed again. Something heavy hit the deck with a crack like thunder and a roar, and flames kindled in the middle of the storm of darkness. Flames and the sound of a clattering chain. Motochika--it had to be Motochika, somehow, she'd know his battle aura anywhere. She could barely think enough to question it--Chugoku, she knew for sure he'd been all the way across Shikoku's mountains and the Seto Sea, and yet--

"Mitsunari, where the hell are you--what--"

"Lord Nagamasa!" Oichi cried, her voice ragged, desperate, and she doubled over, clutching her head, face hidden in the curtain of her hair as she shook against her. "Lord Nagamasa...were you ever with me...Lord Nagamasa... _Lord Nagamasa!!_ "

"What...no... _no_!" Motochika's voice a raw howl in the wind, despairing. "How--how can this be happening again--hey, you sons of bitches, is anybody here?" Tsuruhime could barely even see him, as she looked frantically over her shoulder, only the outline of anchor and coat in the chaos of the deck. "Talk to me...talk to me, wake up, anybody!"

Ice shattered. Mitsunari clawed loose, shivering violently, crouched like a spider on the deck as he panted and shook. "B...b...b-b-begone, wretched woman! Die, _die_ , if I must kill you a thousand times!"

He charged like lightning. And as he cut through shadows with razor flashes of dim light, Tsuruhime saw Motochika, for a bare instant, across the deck--cradling the broken body of one of his men, face a mask of shock as he looked up, as Mitsunari came at her and Oichi like a loosed arrow, heedless of the shaft still impaling his arm.

For a moment, the world seemed very still.

A black hand snatched Mitsunari off the deck like a doll and squeezed, squeezed until he gave some terrible shriek.

"Ahahahaha...no, I can't only fight for Lord Nagamasa anymore, can I?" Oichi's voice was low, shaking, almost sing-song. Almost _joyous_ , as shadow boiled around her, surging up even thicker than before. "One...two...three stones...pile them by the river of hell..." She rose, born up by her hands, with such implacable strength that she shed Tsuruhime, toppled her to the deck, even as she tried to clutch at her in numb shock. "The bright ones want to die for justice...Ichi can't let them...Lord Nagamasa, no, no Lord Nagamasa, please...all Ichi's fault, all Ichi's fault all Ichi's fault all Ichi's fault...the black demon comes and breaks four of them...break it...tear it all down tear it all down tear it all down...for White Bird..." She drifted forward, past where Tsuruhime reeled on her knees, her heart sinking to her gut like a cold lead. "White Bird, are you watching? Ichi will do her best..."

"You bitch, what in hell did you _do_?" Motochika roared. "You turn down my offer to sail to Chugoku for--for _this_ \--to bring in your demon queen and burn my rear lines to the ground?!"

He was bleeding, Tsuruhime realized, as she looked slowly up at him. Gashes on his arms and bare back, streaked with blood and filth, dark shadows under his eye. Like he'd just come off a battlefield, or out of hell. And the shock on his face had turned to--rage, terrible rage, a roar as his anchor lit up like a bonfire, as he spun it over his head, as Mitsunari screamed raw and ravaged and Oichi advanced laughing and singing into the maelstrom--

"Go to _hell,_ Oracle!!"


	17. In Which the Devil King of Tosa Kindles the Flames of Revenge

" _Go to hell, Oracle!!_ "

Motochika slammed his anchor down, and the deck burst open under Tsuruhime before she could even stagger to her feet. The crash of the explosion swallowed her scream as the world tumbled, shattered. She crashed through a pile of broken scaffolding, flung halfway across the Fugaku, burnt and reeling. Only instinct that she'd kept her bow, clutched desperately in one hand--

He swung towards her in midair, roaring, closed the distance as she picked herself up, and she shrieked and brought her bow up to guard, fending him off with a desperate parry that lost her more ground.

"Motochika, stop! This--this isn't what you think--"

"What the hell is it, then?" His next swing knocked her legs out from under her, sent her tumbling through the air again, but at least this time she had the presence of mind to roll up as she flew, feet tucked close, and instead of crashing into the nearest bulkhead, she sprung with all her strength and kicked off from the wall, pink light flaring, sailing high over him to land the highest deck, right over the great demon mask, unpainted and clawed deep by black hands.

At least--at least she could see. And string an arrow, and breathe for an instant. She had been tossed around _entirely_ too much for one day; her whole body felt sickly hot with battle nerves, her chest tight, her heartbeat like thunder in her ears. Across the deck, behind Motochika as he whirled to face her, Oichi and Mitsunari fought furiously--a stalemate at the moment, hands cut down as fast as they formed, he too quick on his feet to get caught and torn to pieces, and she could only hope it stayed that way. Motochika stared up at her, eye wild with rage like she'd never seen, flames boiling off his skin. So angry he _shook_ for a moment, glaring up at her where she perched out of reach.

"What're you gonna do now, gloat? Feed me some shit about how it's all my fault you fucked me over?" he bellowed. "You're not getting off this ship alive if it kills me!"

" _What_?" Tsuruhime almost fumbled the arrow off the string, like she hadn't since she was a little girl--something shameful and indignant clutched at her heart. How _could_ he think that? "No, no! It's not--it's not any of our faults--there was this false prophecy and--"

"Don't fuck with me!" Motochika slammed the anchor into the deck, and flames burst so thick she could smell the smoke. Thick enough to launch him like a rocket, ogre given wings with vengeful rage. She fired, fast as she could, handfuls at a time, a hail of arrows that he zagged through with a rising roar. Some hit, but he shook them off like a maddened boar, not staggered in the least. Tsuruhime clenched her jaw in determination, hopped back as he skidded out on the upper deck, heaved his anchor back around with a clatter of chain.

"Please, I'll fight you if you need to, but--" She set her pink beam of focus right on his chest as he ran for her, fired with all her will in one arrow--that staggered him, spattered light on his chest as he growled and dug his heel into the deck. "Listen, please--Oichi-chan had already attacked everyone when I got here--" Another arrow, strong as the first, driving him back another precious step. All she had to do was keep this up. "And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I was trying to calm her down, but she's--"

"Stop making excuses!" She could see the flinch run through his body at the next shot, but he stood his ground.

"Motochika--"

He bulled forward with a sweep of his anchor as she aimed her next arrow--and caught it, breaking the beam with the thick shaft of his anchor and a gout of flame. Shook himself like a dog, slung the anchor over his shoulder with grim determination as he closed on her. "They're _dead_ , little girl. I suppose you don't give a damn after all, do you?"

Her hand shook--her shot went wide. Her stomach sank, ice cold, and her eyes stung. "N-no--no, that's not--"

Chain rattled and snaked, and she was too heart-sick and slow to dodge--the head of the anchor, flung like a fish-hook cast on a line, caught her by the shoulder, yanked her off her feet and dragged her right back to him, sleeve torn and reeling.

"Do you?" he roared, dragging her up by one arm--hand big enough to close right round her bicep, and she couldn't reach her quiver, choked back a shriek, kicked at his armored shins in vain. "Faking it to win my trust all along?"

"I wasn't! I wasn't, I swear--I swear on the gods!"

"Like that means a damn thing--"

They struggled, brief, a furious blur as Tsuruhime fought back tears of indignant anger. She cracked him across the face with her bow, desperate, strained free to cartwheel back and gain some distance, any distance. No good, nothing was any good, how _could_ he believe her with what he'd seen--oh, what did it matter, really? She drew, prayed--she had to be wearing him down, if she could just stun him long enough to go calm down Oichi again--but then Mitsunari would be even angrier--

"Then--then fight it out with me later--all you like--but please, we have to save Oichi-chan and Mr. Ishida! We can't let them die too!" She couldn't even see them anymore, he'd backed her too far from the edge. For all she knew, it was too late--she felt even sicker at the thought--

"Cut the shit! You shot him!" Another charge, flame kindling in his anchor, and her gut felt like lead--she _had_ , he wasn't even wrong about that--

"I--he--he got confused like you are--he killed Oichi-chan!" she shrieked. Fired again, wildly, driven back towards the tall railing of the highest deck--nowhere to jump up to, and a long fall to the sea.

"Bull _shit_!" He sidestepped easily. "She's right there, even I'm not that stupid!"

"She--she came back--she's a demon--Motochika, _please_!" Three arrows to the chest, and he just growled and kept coming. "Didn't you say you trusted me?"

"And look where it got me!" She parried his fierce swipe with her bow and a prayer, shoulders wrenched with the force of it--and then her back hit wood, nowhere to run, only a twist to the side to keep the sharp flange of the anchor away from her even as flames licked at her armor. "I trust someone to fight fair, they leave me a field of corpses!" His knee caught her in the gut, winding hard and crushing her against the rail, and she choked up bile and felt the world swim. Thought she'd lose a second quiver for a moment, but her new one was bound in metal, held with a creak even as the flanges of it dug cruelly into her back. "Lying sons of bitches, you and him both--damn it, _damn_ it, what kind of an idiot am I?"

His fist crashed down with wood-cracking force--into the railing an inch from her face. So close her ear rang. And she realized, sudden with her heart aching, that he wasn't just angry at her.

And that she had another bare moment to slip away, as he drew his fist back. The anchor fenced her in on one side, but the other--the other she was free. Two precious steps before he whirled. Another as he brought his anchor to bear. _Could_ she even win this? She'd never fought him full out, she knew that now--but no, it wasn't even that, it was his rage, the vicious urgency of a lust for vengeance.

But, still, even now--things really were that simple, weren't they?

She didn't have time to breathe, or speak, or pray. Just dropped her bow. Motochika froze as it clattered to the deck, eye widening. Tsuruhime spread her arms, and pretended, pretended very hard, that she was calm.

"Then if you don't trust me, right now, I'll still trust you. All right?"

He made some wretched, choked groan in the back of his throat, and lurched forward, and caught her by the collar in his free hand. Wheeled her around and slammed her back up against the railing, and she whimpered with the force of it, let herself go limp. The flange of the anchor a bare inch from her throat. Terrible grief and desperate rage in his eye, and she looked back in blank surrender.

And then his face crumpled with a hoarse sob. "Not again," he croaked. Lifted her by her shirt, one-handed and easy as anything, and she didn't realize he'd dropped his anchor until she heard it crash to the deck with a rattle of chain. "Damn it, not again," and her feet dangled, and then his other arm was wrapped around her bodily, and he was crushing her to his chest, shaking. "Shit, shit..."

"...ow," she squeaked, very faintly, and found a handful of his coat to hold onto. He twitched, slowly set her back on her feet with a long shudder, and she sagged against the railing fighting for air.

"Tsuru," Motochika muttered, head bowed. "Fucking hell, I..."

Mitsunari's raw-throated scream howled across the deck, and Motochika's head whipped around at the sound. Tsuruhime dragged a deep breath, held his coat-sleeve tight to steady herself--there wasn't any time for this, there wasn't, and right now, that almost made things easier.

"Damn it, can you call her off?"

"I...I can try...can you..."

"Put him in a net again?" His voice sounded frayed, beyond reason, and he gave a weak, unspeakably bitter laugh. "Sure. Let's." He dragged the anchor up with one toe, lurched towards the lower deck, paused. "You throw me over on this, I'll break you in two but you--you won't, will you?"

Tsuruhime met his gaze without blinking, felt a smile catch at her mouth in spite of everything. "I won't. I promise."

* * *

The main deck of the Fugaku was a swath of disturbed bodies, lingering bits of demon darkness wafting away in the wind, stains of fresh blood. Oichi crumpled with a few small shadow-hands clutching her protectively, bleeding lavender shadow and limp with exhaustion. Mitsunari slowly, slowly lurching to his feet like a maddened thing, half his face a massive bruise, the arrow in his shoulder driven nastily deep and broken off to slowly leak blood.

He collapsed in Motochika's net like an abandoned doll, and Tsuruhime raced for Oichi's side as fast as her weary legs could carry her. She had healed--she couldn't imagine how much. No wounds, no blood, but deep gouges in her armor, her pink cotton sleeve in ribbons. She stirred at her touch, dry-sobbed and tried to bat her aside--and then saw her, and her dim eyes widened.

"White...Bird...?"

Tsuruhime caught her hand, folded it over her own heart, smiled soft and thin and damp-eyed. "Yes. Oichi-chan, are you hurt?"

"White Bird...is all right...?"

She nodded, scooted a little closer. "I'm...a little banged up, but I'll be all right."

"Then Ichi...can't be hurt...Ichi thought...White Bird was..." Her voice caught, choked, and Tsuruhime smoothed her bangs out of her face.

"No, I'm right here. I'll always be here. I sorted things out with Motochika, and...Oichi-chan, you thought this machine was going to kill me, didn't you?"

Oichi gave one long, slow sob and shudder.

"It won't. Somebody tricked all of us, I didn't realize until it was too late...somebody just wanted to use you to hurt people. I'm...sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't find out earlier."

Oichi choked, clawed weakly for her hand. "Ichi...Ichi got...very good at hurting people...everybody wanted Ichi to..."

Tsuruhime gently bundled her into her lap, held her close. "Oh, Oichi-chan...you don't have to anymore. I promise."

"Ichi...Ichi doesn't want to remember anymore...Ichi is...tired of fighting..."

"That's okay," Tsuruhime whispered. Gods. Weren't they all tired? "You...you can sleep if you want to. I'll keep you safe. And I won't let anyone use you like that again."

She could hear Motochika and Mitsunari murmuring behind her. A clank of armor as he let him down.

"Not again," she said, loud and firm enough for Motochika to hear, but gentle. "Never again."

* * *

Oichi slept, a weary puddle of faint shadow around her where she lay in Tsuruhime's lap. Mitsunari slumped obedient and exhausted on his knees as Motochika carefully helped him out of his armor to the waist, peeling the plates of his armpieces free around the broken arrow deep in his flesh. Tsuruhime watched, stroking Oichi's hair without thinking, heavy with worry and guilt.

"I've learned to treat injuries...do you want me to--"

Motochika shook his head. "He's one of mine. This much I can do." His voice was dull, bitter, as he smoothed a hand down Mitsunari's thin, pale shoulder, gentle over the vivid bruises that Oichi's hands had beaten into most of his body, and surveyed the damage. "My boys ashore'll be over as soon as they can row the distance, I've already sent up the all clear. They'll have supplies."

Tsuruhime nodded. Then closed her eyes slowly, bowed her head. "I'm...sorry about that."

"Shit, Tsuru, don't-- _I'm_ sorry, hell, I nearly killed you--was all that stuff you were saying true?"

"Yes. We...it really was all set up." Tsuruhime curled over Oichi in her lap, her voice small. "Somebody gave me a fake vision, only I believed it for the longest time, and Uncle Michinao writes down all my important visions and keeps them in the sanctuary where Oichi-chan sleeps, so she saw it..."

"That business about Mori's brat building a machine to kill you in Tosa Bay. So she thought it was the Fugaku." Motochika groaned and put his head in his hands. "Damn it, I should have realized how ridiculous that sounded. That he could be working in secret even in the heart of my territory. I just..."

"Then you truly are no more a traitor than Lord Motochika," Mitsunari murmured, not meeting her eyes.

"I...guess not. Maybe a little foolish. Who'd think to question even visions?" She laughed, weakly. "Big sis Magoichi, I suppose."

Motochika sputtered a little in surprise. "Sayaka...?"

"Mm. She helped me figure it out..." Tsuruhime took a deep shaky breath, trying to get things in order. "She said she thought the Otomo and the rest of the Mori clan were setting a trap for you in Chugoku, that she'd go back you up--"

"They were," Motochika said, his voice very flat, and looked away. His whole body tensing, fine tremor in his left arm as it strained a gash on his bicep. "Thought we were crashin' a fight, using their own battle to ambush them, but they had their reserves set up, knew we were coming and rigged the whole thing." He punched the deck next to him, shaking with helpless anger, hard enough to crack wood. " _Damn_ it, without me 'n Mitsunari, my boys are sitting ducks for the Thunder King..."

"Oh, Motochika..."

The sky turned very bright. Oichi twitched, whimpered, curled closer upon herself, and Tsuruhime felt a sudden chill down her spine, and looked up.

"A...again?" she breathed.

"Again?" Motochika whipped his head back to look at her, tensing even further.

"That's--that's how you and Mr. Ishida got here. And me, I think..." She bent, kissed Oichi's hair. "Oichi-chan, I need to go see who's been trying to hurt us...sleep safe, please?"

She sighed, rolled over into faint and fluttering ghosts of hands as Tsuruhime stood.

"Who the hell could do this," Motochika grumbled.

She could actually see it this time, properly, not the middle of a fight. Motochika stood in a rustle of coat and chain beside her; somewhere on his other side, Mitsunari stirred and hissed. But she didn't take her eyes off the sky. High, high up, the clouds parting like a door, and Tsuruhime's bow grew in her hand along with her determination. It didn't matter how tired she was. Not now. "Whoever...whoever pretended to be Himiko. Takakage-kun's brother, maybe."

"Brother?" Motochika growled. "Another of Mori's brats?"

Golden light flaring, nearly blindingly bright--a light she knew far, far too well by now. She found her bowstring with one toe, as her bow grew longer than her body, the grip near as thick as Motochika's anchor. "Big sis Magoichi and I think so."

"Oh, hell," he groaned, seizing his anchor close with a shudder. "Not that again--"

Somebody fell. Tsuruhime raised the bow to her shoulder, settled both feet on the string--she wouldn't have much time to catch the portal, she was sure, but she couldn't help be curious who was landing now--

A great, bulky figure, landing on both feet with a crash, a deep crouch, straightening slowly. Huge, broad-shouldered, thick golden armor, capes fluttered from his shoulders and a tassel from his helmet. A chainsaw in each hand.

Tsuruhime felt her eyes widen. "That's--"

"You _bastard_!" Motochika growled, and the heat of his rising aura burned beside her. "Thunder King! You owe me _blood_ for my men in Chugoku--you're going a second round with this devil, right the hell now!"

Tachibana Muneshige shuffled, looked between Motochika and Oichi, slowly raised his Lightning Edge with a whir of chains and a crackle of lightning. "That...that would be my honor, to duel with you, Sir Chosokabe."

"Don't you _dare_ fucking claim to have honor, scum!" Motochika roared, and charged, and Tsuruhime peeled her eyes off them. He could hold the Thunder King off, even worn thin: she had to believe in that. Because she had to go. Raised the grip of her bow up over her head, high as she could reach, even as dull, hot pain flared in her bruised body. Strung herself like an arrow, stiff and straight and aimed right through the closing door in the sky.

"Lady Himiko who isn't! I'm coming to punish you!"

And she fired, burst and sparkle of pink light trailing behind her as she shot into the sky, bow whirling after her, and anchor met chainsaws in a clash of sparks and a black blur as Mitsunari slammed into the battle, and the deck of the Fugaku grew tiny beneath her. She flew right into dazzling light, swift and sure, and for a moment, she was weightless, sailing between spaces--

She hung. She hung, ungrounded, in endless light. Almost as she had when she first saw Himiko--but this wasn't a vision, was it? Light, light rebounding off countless mirrors, and a searing, unyielding purity crackling along her skin. The corruption of corpses, the demon hands that had clutched at her, burned away in an instant, as if she had stepped into a sanctuary that could not be compromised...

"Itsukushima," she whispered, faint. Glass, bronze, a nexus of light--hard to see anything beyond that, red wood, white paper--but she'd felt the spirit of this place once before, she'd know it anywhere. Was that a figure in the light, long sleeves, a ring upon its head like the sun?

Her bow, back to its usual size, settled in her hand, and she raised an arrow to the string and drew.

"Come out!" Her voice grew, bright and fierce. "I _know_ you're not Himiko, and I'm not going to let you use me again! There's no more reason to pretend! Now you'll face what you did today--I'll never forgive you!"

The figure--flickered. Flickered green.

"Very well," said a voice. A man's, quiet, flat--and right behind her. "It seems you've not grown out of being a supreme annoyance, Oracle."

Tsuruhime didn't have a moment to turn before a blow across her back smashed her out of the sky.

Wind whistled in her ears. Tosa Bay glittered in the late sun, dull after the blinding light she'd faced with open eyes; the Fugaku and the wide open sky turned over and over as she fell. Mitsunari flung in an arc of golden lightning. Somebody above her, floating down after her, a black spot against fading light. Motochika bulling into Muneshige with a maddened roar, fire licking at indigo sleeves--

For the second time that day, she crashed into the Fugaku's deck in a stunned heap.

The soft click of someone alighting beside her. She groaned, fumbled for her bow, pried her eyes open to a still-spinning world crackling with black spots.

"It seems I'll need to dispose of you all myself. I should have known you would be useless, Muneshige."

Dusty dark green boots, with a tall, heavy heel. The clash of steel on steel stopped, sudden, a ragged gasp that she faintly recognized as Motochika's through her ringing ears.

"Im...impossible...impossible, impossible, _what the fucking hell_?!"

Muneshige's rumble, almost worried. "Please do not lower your blade, Sea Devil, I will yet be your opponent--"

Tsuruhime looked up, up. A green blur. A hiss of steel through the air. Mitsunari's roar in the distance, the crack of blows coming at impossible speeds.

"No," Motochika choked out. "No...no...you're--you're an impostor, or a trick, a kagemusha! Some other Mori clan bullshit!"

A short, sharp laugh from above her. Tsuruhime squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to clear her vision.

"Foolish as ever, pirate. But in a sense, you are right. I _am_ the Mori Clan."

"I _killed_ you!" An anguished howl. Tsuruhime forced her eyes open. Green jacket. Long, long trails of armor.

"So you did. And have faith that I will return the favor, now that this wretched pawn has sacrificed herself to expose me. But first, I must finish her work."

A booted foot nudged her in the side, rolled her onto her back, and the sky was very bright. Heel grinding into her sternum. Great ring of steel raised high above her head.

"Don't you _dare_!" Motochika roared.

Tsuruhime felt her lips curl in a faint smile. Found her bow with one hand and felt no fear. _Fuuma Kotarou, my Twilight Ninja, please..._ Whispered without breath.

The ringblade came down.

Steel cracked and sparked. She drew another breath. Another. Felt her eyes widen.

The blow hadn't stopped on ninja blades, but on the flanges of an anchor. The point dug into the deck near her cheek, the length of it angled across her body like a shield. Great ring of steel digging in to Motochika's bare arm, blood dripping down. Her heart tripped double time, her head spun. _He'd_ saved her...?

"Like hell I'm going to let you take anybody else from me," Motochika growled, and his voice was thick with rage like Tsuruhime had never heard, as raw as if a true demon tore open his throat. "Mori Motonari!"


	18. In Which the Legendary Tactician Opens his Doors to All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the unannounced one-week hiatus. Nothing even came up, the cans were simply not there to can. :( I hope that it will be worth the wait from here on.

Mori Motonari was alive.

For a moment, Tsuruhime could only think to lift her hand, bell chiming, and prod his foot on her chest. He _felt_ perfectly normal. Living. Not the skin-crawling impurity of a corpse. He looked down at her, abstracted, and sneered. She pouted back up at him in sheer bewilderment.

Motochika took the chance to slam the anchor into his side and drive Motonari back a step. He strode right over Tsuruhime, dug his heels in and braced to defend, chest heaving as he fought for air like a drowning man. White, white as his hair, wild-eyed with shock.

"How in _hell_ ," he hissed. "I cut off your last breath with my own hands, I saw your _corpse_!"

"Nichirin's grace moves in ways you cannot understand," Motonari said calmly, twirling his red-stained ringblade and settling it back around him, girded for battle. "But you were wrong, pirate." A dark, dark edge to his voice. "In your parting words. I _was_ remembered. Kindly, even. And that was all I needed to survive."

"Well, bully for you," Motochika bit out, heaving a fistful of anchor chain. "I know _I_ sure as hell won't forget you now. You eel-tongued murdering bastard, you heartless wanker--"

Tsuruhime shook the last ringing out of her ears, grabbed Motochika's coat hem, and slowly dragged herself to her feet. He caught her by the elbow with his free hand to steady her, never taking his eyes off Motonari. Held out his gauntlet like a fence between the two of them, faint flames rising from his skin.

"Fitting, that your true match as a rival is a little girl. At least I am free of your pathetic fixation. You never even posed a danger to me."

"I routed your stronghold and beat you to death, you dick-hatted delusional piece of--"

"Sir Chosokabe." Heavy footsteps, the whir and crackle of chain, as Muneshige closed. "Our duel is not yet concluded. I would respectfully wish to continue--"

"Can it," Motochika barked. His other hand crushing tight on the shaft of his anchor, leather creaking under the strain. "He's mine, Thunder King. I owe him blood that'd turn you white, I don't care if I have to kill him a hundred times. You got a shred of honor in you, you sit your ass down and let me have my revenge."

"Pointless as always, pirate," Motonari murmured, scornful, as Muneshige hesitated. Shuffled his feet. Looked to Tsuruhime, even, as she watched the whole lot of them keenly, slowly letting go of Motochika's coat to reach for her quiver. Would she have to fight Muneshige while the old rivals clashed? Oh, she hadn't counted on this when she'd fired herself into the sky--they were both already so tired. "Even you cannot be so slow-witted as to not realize there is no point in fighting me. This body is but a pawn, to be disposed of as I need while the chessmaster yet remains."

"My honor lies in my obedience," Muneshige murmured. "If you scorn me for that, I cannot gainsay it. But I cannot back off."

And he raised his chainsaws, the wind of his battle aura crackling like an oncoming storm.

"Motochika--behind you!" Tsuruhime had an arrow on the string--oh, she was far too close to shoot well. But Muneshige charged like the swing of a slow, heavy hammer, and Motochika wheeled, caught the double blow of the lightning edge on his anchor with a grunt, safe. Wood cracked under his heel with the force of it.

"Damn it," Motochika hissed, as lightning teeth clattered against his anchor with an ear-wrenching din. "Not--both of 'em-- _Mitsunari_!"

Mitsunari slowly peeled himself off a gold-sparking bulkhead--half-naked, armorless, listing to one side as he set his blade in its sheath.

"For his treachery, Lord Motochika, without hesitation--"

Motonari twirled his ringblade, one strike away from Motochika's defenseless back--

Tsuruhime felt her body move before she even spared a thought. Swung around to step between them in an instant, bow raised to block Motonari's blade, hard as her will, even as it sent the arrow she'd strung whistling harmlessly into the sky--the ringblade had frightening reach, she remembered from fighting him, but he wielded it with momentum, not strength. He caught a heel in the deck, form broken, jumped back a pace with his eyes narrowing.

"Don't you two forget about me! _Rude_!"

"Infuriating as always," Motonari hissed. "Very well, it matters not. I will kill you first. Thunder King, incapacitate the Sea Devil and leave him alive for me while you eliminate the Demon Queen."

"Sir Sunday," Muneshige began, uncertain, somewhere beyond the clatter of chainsaws.

"Do not call me that in public, _Gallop_ ," Motonari hissed under his breath.

"Incapacitate me? Like _hell_!" Motochika roared. "You wanna be the guy I go through to get to Mori, it's your funeral--if you're _lucky_ I'll take all your armor so y'don't sink when you walk the plank!"

"It will be my honor to continue our duel." Grim determination in Muneshige's voice--Tsuruhime didn't dare take her eyes off Motonari to look back at him. "Please, come at me with all your strength. I have no wish to kill an unarmed woman."

Tsuruhime couldn't help a smile, sudden and bright, even with Motonari's brutally calculating gaze fixed on her from under the green rim of his helmet. What was it big sis Magoichi had called him? A pillow in a helmet? "Don't worry, Mr. Thunder King! Oichi-chan's my friend. You won't touch her."

"Pathetic," Motonari said. "Then I shall--"

"Nope! Same goes for you, Mr. Mori!"

"Tsuru," Motochika muttered, some edge in his voice she could barely decipher. "Can you take him?"

"Mm-hm! Don't worry, I'll leave you some. I know you've got the right." The world was very, very clear. Motochika burned with battle-rage against her back, and she raised an arrow to the string and felt the second-wind blood-rush turn the aching bruises all along her body to nothing, curl in a cold, implacable knot of anger inside her. Like she'd sailed right out the far side of the storm of worry and confusion and the sun was sudden and bright through the clouds--the true sun, not the harsh mirror Motonari raised to it. Frost crackled, feathered over smooth-worn wood. "But I witnessed it, I want to punish him too. And I've also been used and betrayed! This is for all of us!"

"Look to yourself before whining so obnoxiously, Oracle," Motonari snapped. "You make it far too easy."

"Don't blame other people for your mistakes!" Tsuruhime tossed her head, sent off a bright pink arrow to stagger him as she hopped out to firing range. "Aren't you the head of a clan? Step up and take a little responsibility!"

"My only mistake was underestimating his ridiculously sentimental attachment to his so-called _rivals_ ," Motonari hissed. Side-stepped with a flicker of green light, and her next shot was drawn into a decoy, harmless.

"Then I'd call that a strength of his, not a weakness!" Somewhere behind her and to her left, Motochika bore the Thunder King back across the deck, flames and lightning clashing with a lurid glow. Far from Oichi, at least, still dozing in her puddle of shadow. Mitsunari crouching near her like a spider, wide eyes darting back and forth between Motochika and Motonari.

"Lord Motochika--"

"Go give her a hand," Motochika barked out, between blows. "I've got this. And _watch yourself_ , fucking hell, I shouldn't have taken your armor off--you do _not_ have permission to die here."

"I--" Silent for a moment. "I understand."

"He's our ally now," Tsuruhime whispered to her bow as she strung her next arrow. For she would never hit an ally. Not with the bright, pure spirit of her bow to guide her hand. Her bolt of light passed right through Mitsunari's bare shoulder as he charged, and he didn't even flinch.

"Not a weakness, Oracle?" Motonari caught Mitsunari's charge with his ringblade like a shield, and for a moment they were even-matched, a storm of sparking steel. "Of course you haven't considered the part Motochika played in the massacre two months ago."

"Don't--don't you _dare_ , you bastard--" Motochika's hoarse growl was distant, punctuated by shrieks of sawing metal.

"Of course I haven't, Mr. Mori!" Tsuruhime cast about for higher ground, clear aim--she could cover Mitsunari, they'd work together wonderfully like that. For all her determination--he'd bested her soundly the last time they'd fought, only Kotarou had saved her. But she'd come a long way since then, hadn't she? "There's nothing that would make him turn on his men. I know that. Anything else is you just making stuff up."

"Lord Motochika is no traitor!" Mitsunari barked. "But you deal in foul treachery! I will have your head!"

"Treachery? If you feel such a pointless need to execute traitors, look to yourself first."

Mitsunari blew by him like a black wind as he dodged with a flicker of green as a feint, turned on his heel with a maddened glare. "I subjected my life to Lord Motochika in penance, such is my--"

"For what?" Motonari snapped, dismissive. "Being so foolish as to not realize what Otani was doing? You have committed far more treachery than that."

Mitsunari froze for a moment, faltering. Tsuruhime felt her heart clench, fired off a few quick arrows to drive Motonari off him before the ringblade found his throat.

"Mr. Ishida, you don't need to listen to him--!"

"You dare enumerate my sins?!" Mitsunari crouched, bristling with anger, launched himself again with a flash of purple light. "Such is not your place!"

Motonari twirled aside, dancing over fallen bodies with ease, and spun a barrier of green light behind him with barely a glance towards her. Tsuruhime leapt from one crumbling scaffold to another, searching for a clear shot--

"Otani cared for you deeply," Motonari said, flat and final, and Mitsunari froze again, deep in his crouch to spring, his breath choking in his throat with some terrible hiss.

"Nonsense--if he had, he would not have--"

"Your life was the one thing he sought to protect from me, in our conspiracy, just as I named Chugoku untouchable. It was pitifully obvious. No doubt he would have given his own to save you." Mitsunari sagged to one knee, rooted to the spot. Tsuruhime felt her gut churn, set three arrows on the string at once to rain down on Motonari--only to be burned away by the searing light he called from his ringblade, floating above his head as he stood serene in the middle of battle, disdainful over Mitsunari. "Such pathetic, dogged loyalty. Truly what you might call friendship. And yet you threw it away without care."

"No," Mitsunari croaked.

"You allowed your friend to die, sentenced and executed without honor, for the sake of a stranger. And now you serve the man who murdered him."

"No!" He staggered to his feet, swaying, hunched like a ravening beast with a terrible shadow on his face like she'd never seen. Tsuruhime fired frantically--arrows lost to Motonari's sudden sidesteps, green shields, the tightest defense she'd ever tried to break through. One found his chest, and he staggered a step under the fierce bolt of light, caught his breath, and closed his trap regardless.

"You may as well bow to the would-be shogun. A traitor who serves traitors."

"Mr. Ishida! You _know_ he's wrong--please, you don't listen to him!" 

"Silence! _Silence_ , you ravening wretch! I... _I will kill you_!!" A rising roar of pure rage and grief, black light crackling over his skin as his battle aura flared. So thick it stained his skin, trailed in the air behind him as he lashed out at Motonari with his blade like a hacksaw in both hands. Sheath in his teeth as he growled like a mad dog. Eyes blood red.

Tsuruhime froze with one tiny squeak in the back of her throat. What--what was this? Was this the true strength of the Dark King that had once terrorized half the country?

"Shit--" Motochika choked out, wrestling anchor to chainsaws halfway across the deck. "Mitsunari-- _Mitsunari_ , cool it!"

His words didn't reach him. Tsuruhime wondered what could. Whether he could even tell friend from foe. He lunged with brutal speed, wild slashing blows, one after another in a rhythm as steady as a child doing forms with a wooden sword--and Motonari blocked them just as easily. Dismissing his berserk rage with simple calculation. Faster, faster, and Tsuruhime raised an arrow to the string, heart pounding, fired--just before he struck, maybe if she could distract Motonari--

Motonari caught her arrow on an armored sleeve. And sidestepped. Mitsunari lurched past him, crouched so low as he ran that he seemed some strange misshapen beast--right for her perch. She yelped as his blow sent the already damaged scaffold tumbling, rolled as she hit the deck, got her feet under her just in time to jump over his blade as he slashed at her, trailing shadow. A second leap, higher, landing precariously on a beam further away, the last bit left intact, and Mitsunari spun out on all fours with a rabid hiss--

A ring of green light appeared around him. Perhaps ten feet across, and glinting with cruel brilliance--and he spasmed, thrashed, black light fading with a long ragged scream as the ring shrunk, slow, inexorable. Tsuruhime bit her lip, sent arrow after arrow pelting into the strange light, but they did nothing--nothing--it was the width of his armspan, the width of shoulders, it was squeezing _through_ his flesh like some awful spirit and vanishing in a final green flash as he shrieked in agony.

And then he crumpled limp onto his face and lay terribly, terribly still.

"Mr. Ishida!"

Motonari turned with his eyes narrowed under his helmet, and the last bit of scaffold collapsed under her with a groan. When had he even--no, no time to wonder. She hit the deck running for Motochika, heart pounding, fast as she could, somewhere far beyond fear and into sheer instinct. In the hands of the spirits. Motonari darted after her--the ringblade's reach was easily her whole height, he could find her back so easily if he closed--but she made it. Barely. Close enough to turn on her heel and fire into the sky with one quick prayer, with both Motonari and Muneshige within range of the pink rain that froze them in their steps. Motochika whipped around with lightning burns spattering his bare chest and a fresh gash torn right through his heavy leather gauntlet to his flesh, sputtered with a double-take as he realized her arrows hadn't frozen them along with him.

Never her allies.

She grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him back away from Muneshige's frozen bulk. "Can you cover me?" she whispered, urgent, raising her bow with pink light already gathering at the tip of her arrow. "For a moment, please?"

Motochika brought his anchor to bear with a grim set of his jaw. "Any moment you need."

For the light pinning them wouldn't last long enough. Gone in a flicker. Muneshige crossed his chainsaws over his chest, golden light flaring as he took the honorable path, raising his battle aura to strike when his opponent was ready. Motonari charged, an impassive frown as he struck, and Motochika parried his blow with a shout of triumphant rage.

The moment she needed. Undisturbed. She poured all her focus into her arrow, aimed high in the sky, light swelling and crystalizing into a great spear. Blooming into a ring. Oh, this was so hard to get started, she'd never managed it during a real fight before, and she had to make this one as strong as she _possibly_ could--but it was just what she needed now. _Nobody_ wanted Muneshige to be fighting right now, did they? Nobody but Motonari, and he didn't count.

Ringblade met anchor with ferocity that drew even Muneshige's attention for a moment, and she sprung, leaping clear over the pair of them with her great glowing arrow still on the string, and struck. Not firing, but sweeping, framing Muneshige perfectly in the center of the ring, and light caught and dragged over him, and with one startled grunt, he was sealed in. Floating in a glimmering bubble, slowly rising off the deck, drifting head over heels with bewildered resignation in his face.

If both of them whispered their thanks to each other, it was lost in the roar of flames and Motochika's rage as the two old rivals fought.

And she thanked the gods her bubble had worked. She doubted anything could drag them apart now.

She skittered for Mitsunari, never quite taking her eyes off their battle. Fumbled for his pulse, watched his breathing--he was alive, at least, sorely exhausted but alive. Oichi's hands had risen over her like a shield, a black flower protecting her sleeping body, but he was defenseless. And she could feel Motonari's cool gaze tracking them both even as he fought.

"So you masterminded this hellhole too, Mori?" Motochika's voice raw from battle, thick with urgency. "Set me up in Chugoku, gave Tsuru that fake vision to send her Demon Queen here?"

"And you scratch only the surface, of course." Motonari, ever dismissive, but more of a bite in his voice than when he'd cut down Mitsunari. "My thanks for your carelessness in leaving your notes for the pawn of my blood to steal for me. And for your aid in defending Chugoku's eastern front. As always, you've played into my hands all along."

"Damn you-- _damn you_ \--what, even your son's nothing but a pawn to you?"

"What else could he be? He's mine, even moreso than the other soldiers of Chugoku."

They were--evenly matched. Old rivals. Tsuruhime dragged a deep, shaky breath. She could at least get Mitsunari to safety before breaking into their fight. More like breaking into a different world, where Motochika saw nothing but the man before his eyes.

"And I will spend all to defeat you now," Motonari said, sharp as a whip. "You have made this a blood feud, Sea Devil."

"No," Motochika growled. " _You_ did. You don't give a damn about your men, fine, it's not exactly a secret that you're a soulless bastard. _I do_. You crossed that line when you set up the massacre on Shikoku! No clue in hell whether I'd come back from the dead, seems to be popular these days, but you could kill me a thousand times and it wouldn't matter one bit next to _that_!"

At least--at least Mitsunari was smaller than most. Painfully thin, out of his armor, and limp as a kitten. Tsuruhime tucked her bow under her arm, found his sword to sheath and tuck into the ties of her skirt. Got him around the shoulders and dragged, back straining, between bodies and broken wood and treacherous charred holes, to the furthest corner of the deck she could manage. Laid his sword beside him and left him curled on his side.

"Don't delude yourself, pirate. You have not one whit of the power and grace from above that one would need to transcend death. You'll rot swift and sure as a common beast when you fall."

"Haah! Like hell. Long as I got my boys to remember me, I'll live on forever. Didn't you say that's how you did it? Admit it--you can go on and on about how using everyone makes you smarter, but I was right in the end! Fuck knows who'd remember you fondly, but--"

"Then I'll simply have to kill them all," Motonari hissed.

Motochika bellowed with wordless rage, and the ogre's flames burned so hot that the air shimmered all across the deck.

Tsuruhime slid an arrow from her quiver, prayed for protection just as she had to the jungles of Satsuma, and it blossomed to light in her hands. And crouched to spin it around Mitsunari, leaving behind a circle to defend him. Only from the first blow that found him in his sleep, and a paltry payment for the broken shaft still buried deep in his shoulder, but it was the best she could do.

"It won't even be hard," Motonari said, as Tsuruhime rose and turned another arrow to light, spinning a second circle around herself. "Not with you as my pawn."

"I'd never-- _never_ , I'm not your pawn, Mori--"

"Rarely a pawn more predictable, in fact. Your wayward heart that led you to wander far from your holdings, and your unreasonable trust in the enemy at your doorstep--indeed, your very misplaced, perverted affection for me. Without that I could not have engineered the massacre in Shikoku."

"You--you bastard--"

Motochika faltered. The practiced dance of ringblade and anchor broke. Big tabi boots falling back a step, two. Tsuruhime felt her heart clench in her chest, slung her bow off her shoulder, leapt for firing range.

"Motochika, don't--that's not true!"

"And to turn so quickly on your supposed friend Tokugawa, on account of one planted banner. Truly a fool. Left to your own devices, you would have murdered him for me, handing me the entire land after I stabbed Otani and Ishida in the back. And you know full well you can take no credit for your little victory of escaping my plot--you're a pawn to the end. No doubt once I came to finish you off, you would have begged for your death after realizing what you had done."

Tsuruhime realized far, far too late that she had frozen with her bow halfway drawn. Was that--was _that_ at the heart of all this? The treachery so horrific that Mitsunari would abandon his life in atonement for even the faintest association? Why Motochika had fled when she'd asked him why he doubted himself, why he'd crumpled in such grief when he'd realized he'd nearly killed her?

"You're...you're awful," she whispered. Felt one quick tremor of horror run through her body. Raised her arrow and raised fierce light around it with every bit of anger in her soul--

\--it was too late. Motonari had herded Motochika. Cornered him between bulkheads. And taken that bare moment as he faltered, sick with regret, to spin another barrier of green light. Trapping him. Another, just to fence him in entirely, so close he couldn't even lift his arms.

Light faded from the arrow as it flew. The bare iron point of it clattered off of Motonari's ringblade.

"So--so what--that doesn't change anything--" Motochika flung himself against the barrier with all but a dry sob, and then howled, shaking with the same terrible spasms of pain that had tormented Mitsunari in that trap. "That's--none of that happened--so what if that makes me Sayaka's pawn, I'd rather be hers than yours--"

Motonari turned on his heel. And left him, trapped.

"And you, Oracle," he bit out, turning. "You've proven _annoyingly_ difficult to kill."

She hopped back, heart pounding in her chest, strung three arrows in one. Motonari's barriers faded eventually, right? She'd have to hold him off alone until Motochika could break free. Simple as that. "I'll take that as a compliment. I'd say all sorts of mean things to you, but I suppose you'd take them as compliments too."

" _Mori_!" Motochika screamed. Shrieks of light as he struggled, torturing himself. "Don't you give a fuck about anything? Leave her-- _leave her_ , just finish me off--how many years have we been fighting? Get back here and finish the job! Shit, you're right, I deserve it--just leave her! Get _back_ here! Damn you, damn you to hell, Mori, _turn around_!"

He didn't turn. Readied his ringblade and charged, weaving with his evasive grace, fast. Tsuruhime leapt backwards as she fired, gut turning to ice at Motochika's screams. Her skin trailing fine snow, the whole world calm and distant. Leap and fire. Nothing more. Her arrows were wood and iron and frost, and she would not give him the satisfaction of anger.

"We shall see, now, if you are any threat without your ninja to hide behind."

"Without?" She smiled, fired, a shaft caught in the plates of his armpieces. Barely grazing his skin, from the look of it. "He'll be here the moment my life is truly in danger."

Motonari rankled, offended, broke his smooth rhythm to lunge at her with a great leap, ringblade around him, spinning. "Then he has abandoned you."

"Mm, no. Having faith in people--I learned that from you, Lady Himiko." She hopped sideways. Always retreating. Buying time. "And I've also learned not to listen to you."

"A half-wit who claims to learn poetry when the subject is arithmetic," Motonari snapped. "I am astounded that they let you out of school--"

And he staggered. A grunt of pain. Finally an arrow had found home--his defenses tight as always, but even he could not block her aim forever. The shaft buried deep in his thigh, frost thick on his trousers--at least that would slow him down.

"Waste of time," he spat, and raised a hand to send the ringblade spinning high over his head. Light formed in the middle, burst forth, searing. A torrent of sunfire, turning the deck to charcoal in its wake, homing in on her. She ran, leapt, skidded as ice formed at last under her toes and steam billowing behind her as the ray boiled it in an instant. Swept around him in a great arc as he turned, arms raised to frame the ringblade burning like a captive sun--she was under it, he was fencing her in so she couldn't jump, but he couldn't keep this up forever, she was sure, and she would probably have a moment to shoot--

He couldn't. The ray vanished, leaving the sky dim in contrast, and she skidded off her ice into a crouch, an arrow already on the string--

Motonari snatched the red-hot ringblade out of the air with the spring-swiftness of a trap closing, and it spun towards her like a smoldering buzzsaw, and her body felt like lead as she slid sideways, slowly. Too slowly. It missed her throat. Spinning, spinning, one blow knocking away the arrows of light that protected her, two blows blunted by the straps of her armor.

Two more, deep and searing, into her left shoulder.

She couldn't help one short, sharp scream. The world blurred, blackened. Hard wood of the deck hit her knees, and it hurt so much she couldn't breathe. Burning, it was burning, stink of charred leather and flesh. Her left arm a mass of pain, limp, nerveless. Clatter of her bow falling.

Motonari kicked it across the deck, and as her vision cleared, she saw it skid through a broken hole in the railing and fall into the sea.

Motochika screamed and flung himself against the barriers that pinned him like a maddened animal, even as he spasmed with pain at their very touch.

Tsuruhime felt her gorge rising, her eyes prickle hot, her whole body limp and trembling with pain. Dizzy, sliding sideways--her right, at least she fell on her right, and for a moment she clung to that like a little toddling child, the only victory she could grasp. Her first deep battle-wound, and she really _had_ just faltered like a little girl. Oichi asleep. Mitsunari unconscious. Motochika trapped. _Kotarou...Kotarou, please...my Twilight Ninja...you have saved this life over and over, please do not let it be wasted here..._ she wasn't even sure if she'd managed to voice the words.

Motonari raised the ringblade above his head, impassive.

"This ends here. You've both become privy to my most carefully guarded of secrets: my ability to open doors to anywhere." He held his arm out, spun the ringblade slowly around his wrist. "And for that alone, your deaths would be assured." Faster, faster it spun, a whir of terrible purpose. "From here I will annex this new Fugaku, take Tosa Province, assail Iyo from the rear, return to my pride of place in Aki, and assure Chugoku's safety on the front of the Seto Sea. Once and for all." He raised his arm, flung the spinning ring of steel high in the air, buoyed by his implacable will. "And you have seen nothing yet of my true power, gathered to me in my time of exile." The ring froze, hanging in midair. Light glinted in its center, one bright flicker, a second. "Witness it now, before you die, and know the true futility of your battle!"

Light poured forth, as if a damn had burst. Not searing sunfire, but pure gold, the brilliant glow of Nichirin that Tsuruhime had come to know so well. Nigh blinding, whiting out the world. Until even Motonari's figure, silhouetted against it, seemed a black and featureless shadow.

Another shadow, growing. A great slab, blocking out a whole swath of sea and sky. A door in space, and as it opened, the world opened. Light, clear light, fading just enough to show another sea, another sky. A great vessel, tall as the Fugaku and glittering with mirrors and cannons, poised at the threshold, a tiny black-and-gold figure glinting atop it.

"Behold!" Motonari intoned. "The final form of Nichirin!"

Tsuruhime levered herself up on her elbow for a bare moment, shaking with exhaustion. Crumpled back down with a whimper.

A single black feather wafted by her fingertips, blown on the wind of great engines.


End file.
